Ghost Of An Angel
by CarsGirlsandMusic
Summary: Ashley's past life converged with the present to haunt her...
1. Bad Reputation

**A/N: This fic is everything the opposite of what I've ever done – but I cannot unveil a single thing about this idea until the plot has revealed itself. So be patient, and please keep on reading, even though things might feel a bit confusing in the beginning! You'll thank me later! Hope you enjoy this fic as much as I enjoyed the plotting – it's going to be a long one – hopefully enjoyable once you get what it's about. There's some violence in here which might not sit well with some readers, please be forewarned. Without further ado...**

* * *

 **Ashley**

 **Bad Reputation**

Had I known it'd be so cold out here, I would've dressed warmer. Another black layer of clothes, feeling like another layer to not only protect my body, but in an sad kind of way, also me.

I liked layers. The more layers you added, the harder it would get for anyone to penetrate your soul. Of course, you'd kind of _need_ one to protect one. I sometimes wondered about myself. I wondered when things have changed. _Why_ things have changed.

 _Okay, no seriously, it's too cold._

I shifted somewhat, trying to ignore the fact that my torso had gone partly numb. As long as my arms, hands, and eyes were still functioning, everything would be okay.

Scanning the snow-covered landscape below me, my mind drifted again.

So many people, so many useless souls in this life. I was hardened by the life I've lived. Some by choice, majority of it not. I couldn't remember much of my past, but the parts that were still lodged in my memory weren't any good. A mother who rejected me and a father I've only seen a total of a hundred and twelve days since I was five years old. He died in a car accident when I was about seventeen. Not much of a family life, was it?

So it shouldn't really come as a surprise that I didn't care much for other people around me. In the beginning I was scared to get close to people for the fear of just losing them in the end, and even more terrified that _they_ would break _me_. But after so many years of solitude, it came natural to me not to let anyone in. And I preferred it that way. My lifestyle required it that way.

My mind drifted to times when I was still surrounded by hordes of people. There was a distinct difference between being surrounded by people and being part of their lives – so much so that you could almost be labeled as friends. Maybe we were friends, I wouldn't know. I couldn't remember that much. But I did remember school, the clicks, annoying teachers, annoying peers. A lot of kids annoyed me back then. A lot of people still annoy me now.

But things were different back then. Life wasn't as lonely as it is now, despite my inability to really connect with people on a more emotional level. It was too exhausting. I could handle the physical exhaustion that was brought on by endless nights of sex with faceless strangers in clubs I frequented, only for brief amounts of time until I moved on to the next. People knew _of_ me, but I didn't want them to know _me_.

What was there to know, anyway? My mother had told me on numerous occasions that I was a mistake. I was grateful that my father wasn't as uncouth as she was, but he wasn't present enough to make me feel like I belonged to a family who cared. Or even just a family. We didn't even classify as that. The Davies' was just a name. There was no family attached to it.

I felt the same about myself. There was nothing attached to the psyche of Ashley Davies. It was that simple. I was happy when people minded their own business and didn't spill my coffee. That, and not leave endless remarks about my sexuality. Really, it was old news already. It wasn't that I had a low self-esteem – on the contrary – I was hot, and I knew it. I had a small muscled frame, sporting a golden brown tan, shoulder length dark curly hair, framing my face perfectly, and piercing brown eyes – so I've been told. So no, I didn't have any confidence issues. I just didn't give a fuck. About anything or anyone. And I appreciated that people respected me for that.

Everybody who claimed to know me, knew that. It was a simple rule to live by, really. Life was good when there weren't any expectations – it was the best way to avoid disappointment. In fact, I used those words on every single girl I've slept with. Don't expect anything. Well, emotionally. Physically they needed to expect to get the best lay in town. I didn't care who I slept with – some were married, some engaged or had girlfriends. Sometimes I even did the girlfriends right after.

Like I said, I didn't give a fuck.

Why it only attracted so many _more_ girls, only they would know…

I just enjoyed the release, and thorough workout, I might add. And I truly appreciated the female anatomy. Yes, there was a time when things were different. I was a little more humane, I even dated a guy. Sadly I was also a teen pregnancy statistic. But I lost the baby, and everything else I thought was good in my life. I was too young to realize that what I thought was good _then_ , was merely a drop in the ocean. Perseverance and desperation got me to where I was today.

Some would say it was just fucking sad, looking at me now, but I would say it's a blessing. I was offering a service to my country. In more ways than one. Nothing sad about _that_ , is there?

I definitely didn't hear any girls complain.

What I _did_ hear were raised voices of parents fighting in the reality of my surrounding. I squinted and tried to read their lips. Not that it was really necessary – they were yelling at each other _so_ loud, it was surprising their toddler, playing in a sandpit just a couple of feet away, was unaffected by the ruckus. Maybe it happened so often the poor kid was used to it.

Parents…

Were there actually any good ones out there? I wanted to believe that I could've been a good parent, when I had the opportunity. Now, though… I'd probably be a divorcee or worse, be a single mother struggling to make ends meet, with no family to support me or the kid.

Yeah, fucking depressing.

 _"Damn it, Tracy! I told you this weeks ago! You know how things are at work right now – if they suspect anything – "_

 _"Keep your voice down, Boz."_

Tracy and Boz. What an odd combination.

I wondered if I had lived a different life, what my spouse's name would be. I wondered if she'd agree to take my surname – despite the Davies-name meaning nothing to me, I liked the sound of my name – and I wondered if it would go well with her name.

And what we'd name our children. I wanted a girl and a boy. Maybe even a third baby after a couple of years. We'd live in a beautiful townhouse, protected in a gated community, so we'd be able to let our kids ride their bicycles in the street. And we'd take them for walks, let them play in the park, allow them to meet other kids on the block. Maybe even be best friends with the neighbors…

It was a beautiful dream, an amazing vision, but it wasn't mine. I was too far gone to dream about wives and kids and families and the good, _soft_ things in life.

There was nothing soft about Ashley Davies.

I thought about my own place. Nothing in there was soft either. It was a huge, spotless loft, with everything in its place. A decently equipped kitchen; state-of-the-art coffee machine and normal other gadgets. A simple lounge area – two large sofas and a TV mounted to the wall. I even owned a bar. Fully stocked. Two bedrooms – one served as an actual bedroom, the other as a little study. A guest bathroom and an en-suite in the main bedroom. Everything was clinically clean. Large, cloud-black tiles covering the entire floor area, light grey walls, and high, slanted industrial ceilings. No artwork or any photographs. No clutter. It was easier that way.

I could pack up and be gone in two hours max. Five minutes if I left everything as it was. I was always prepared to leave. I had to be.

 _"Take him home, Tracy, and just follow the plan."_

The couple were still at it. Loud. It fascinated me that people didn't realize how sound could travel. In dry air, at a temperature of about 68F, a sound wave could travel one mile in a staggering 4.689 seconds. It was cold out today, so we could probably add a millisecond or two. Considering the quiet surroundings – it was a school day, barely anybody in the snow-covered park, it was a given that raised voices would echo quite loudly.

So whatever they were discussing, or planning, were really not _that_ discreet.

I took my time to take a look around on behalf of them. There was no sign of people out on the street in this miserable weather. Maybe they let their guard down because of that. The abandoned park was small – there was only a sandpit, and junior jungle gym with two swings. This was really just a park for tots. Several wooden benches were scattered all over, following the narrowly scraped path as far as the naked eye could see. Poor public servants. I wouldn't want to be the one clearing and salting all these little walkways through the snowy suburbs of New York. Not in shitty weather like this.

My clothes were soaked – I could feel the numbness spreading to the rest of my body, not only my stomach anymore. It was silly of me to think this would be over soon. I made a mental note to be sure to buy some better winter clothing. It was a bitch to pack, but it was a necessity.

 _"I can't do this anymore, Boz. Can't we just go somewhere else?"_

 _"Trace, baby, I told you, they'd figure it out. They'll find us."_

 _"What if you go to the police – "_

 _"Tracy, stop. We've been over this a million times. Stick to the plan. Everything will happen as it should. You need to trust me on this."_

A simple gesture such as cupping her chin, holding her gaze, was quite heartwarming. Was it possible that two people could love each other _so_ much, that just a simple touch and eye contact could erase all their fears? Did that kind of love exist?

 _"I do trust you, Boz. I'm just so scared – for you, baby."_

They weren't yelling anymore. But I could still hear them quite clearly. Sound refracted upwards when the temperature was colder the higher you got. I wasn't as far as I was high up. In summer their conversation would have refracted downwards and in fact, traveled a lot further on the ground.

Don't ask me how I knew all of this. It was second nature to me – a basic, necessary bit of education I absolutely _needed_ , to be as good as I wanted to be.

And I considered myself the best.

A soft, static, radio noise in my ear startled me.

 _"Davies, are you in position?"_

Fucking finally!

* * *

 **Bad Reputation – Joan Jett & the Blackhearts**


	2. I never told you what I do for a living

**Ashley**

 **I never told you what I do for a living**

I adjusted my earpiece, then the mouthpiece, and cleared my throat, speaking soft but crisply. "This is agent Davies. I am in position. Target confirmed and in view."

For the first time in the three hours I've been lying here, I lifted my A7 sniper rifle and adjusted the focus on the day scope. I was grateful for the last-minute purchase of the reinforced, lightweight tripod; the weapon alone weighing almost 17 pounds. Not that it was heavy for me anymore – even for my small frame, but any improvements were welcome.

 _"Davies, wait for confirmation."_

Didn't I always?

I started to mentally prepare myself for the task at hand. It was always such a long wait until first contact, then time seemed to fly. There was so much to do. Mental preparation. Physical ritual. Focusing my scope. Locking on target. Confirmation.

A quick glance at my watch confirmed it was a couple of minutes before 11AM. Boz and Tracy had come early today. Thank goodness I was trained to lie still for long periods of time.

I knew what we were waiting for. Call it OCD, call it planning, but every single hit I've done in my lifetime was exactly on the hour. Never one second earlier, or later. It sometimes made me nervous – if people _really_ paid attention they'd start to notice.

I had adrenaline and panic to thank for no-one picking up on the pattern. Not even the FBI or CIA, or whoever else was already trying to track me, could figure this out. Why?

Because when people are unsuspecting, they don't take note of the time unless they're waiting for something or someone. When you listen to statements and interrogations after traumatic incidents, you'll always see people check their watches then for the first time. And subtract how ever long time they thought might have passed. It will never be on the hour. Even in their minds, it sounds too precise. Think about it…

 _"Davies, what's your status?"_

It was almost time.

My physical ritual kicked in. I traced the white tattooed _S_ on the inside of my right wrist with my left index finger. I had no idea what it stood for, or when I got it. It was small, scripted, barely visible to the naked eye. Focused the scope. Locked onto the male target down in the park. Finger on the trigger, tapping it three times.

 _"Locked on target, awaiting confirmation,"_ I finally replied into my mouthpiece, not taking my eyes off the target. I leaned in, preparing my body for the tiniest jolt once I pulled the trigger. My thumb played with the safety switch. I was getting impatient.

 _"Stand by for confirmation, Davies."_

This was the hardest part. Suddenly that man on the ground was no longer a husband, a parent, a father, somebody else's child. He was a threat. A number. A contract on paper.

And my job, as one of the top agents for my company, was to receive case files, study my target for a couple of weeks, and execute upon confirmation date and time.

I didn't know how I got myself into this, or when, or why.

A whole couple of years were missing from my memory. I would've preferred _all_ of it to have been gone, but I guess something went wrong somewhere. Whoever wanted to remember high school, of all things? It was odd, really. Not even a day's worth of training to do this ludicrous job came to mind. All I could remember was experience as I built myself up as a better agent. Reacquainting myself with physics, and some other interesting subjects such a _sound_.

 _"Stand by, Davies."_

I didn't have to check my watch to know I was seconds away from receiving the final command to pull the trigger. My thumb flipped the safety, and my right index finger curled slightly around the lever that changed lives in shockwaves.

Peering through the scope, I ensured my target was still locked on. I've been requested to do a headshot. I preferred them. It's not easy putting a bullet through the heart. Not because of body movement or objects or other people possibly blocking them, but because of the notion. The bit of conscience I had left warned me from the ache I'd get sending a bullet off to pierce through someone's heart. There was just something painful about that. Color me crazy.

 _"Take your shot, Davies."_

As soon as the words echoed in my ear, I applied pressure to the trigger until it clicked back. I felt the slight jolt against my shoulder. And then heard the terrifying scream tearing through the crisp, New York air.

 _"Target is down,"_ I confirmed quickly into my mouthpiece, flattening myself on the roof, ensuring I was completely out of sight from the public eye.

This was the part I hated the most – lingering around after a job. I had to make sure that my target was eliminated. I had to make sure a time of death was called. This all still needed to be relayed back to the agency, and then the client. And _then_ only, I could leave. Sometimes it took forever, and put myself in a compromising position. The first thing most cops did was try and establish from which direction the bullet came. Because it was a head shot, they would always look towards taller buildings in the area.

Today I was lucky – the suburb was filled with tall apartments spread across the urban side of the street. But I was uncomfortably close to the crime scene, not giving me a lot of time to make my escape once the paramedics arrived.

I quickly retracted my rifle and dismantled it, fitting the pieces into a backpack that was actually a camera sling bag. Together with the tripod I looked more like a touristy photographer. Sometimes I wished that was all I was. The camera was there for the show – just in case. I always had to fill the memory cards with scenery far away from the crime scenes.

Grabbing my military spec binoculars, I observed the scene unfolding in the park, forcing away any form of emotion as I watched the wife beg for her husband to open his eyes. She was crouched next to him as he lay lifeless in the cold snow.

The toddler was uneasy and crying now, still sitting in the sandbox. Thank goodness. There were no curious onlookers yet. No phone calls to dispatch the police or an ambulance.

She was still in shock. And hysterical.

I'd be too – if only for the mere fact that her face was covered in speckles of her husband's blood. It was a clean shot. There was a stellate-shaped entry wound, and proof of a definite exit wound as the snow underneath the man started coloring bright red.

I was getting antsy. _Just call 911 already_.

 _"Stand by, Davies."_

Ah, they knew me well.

Relief washed over me as the wife, Tracy, finally came to her senses and made the call. She couldn't say much except that her husband had been shot in the head. She confirmed her location and ended the call.

Through the bewilderment of the incident, I watched Tracy's face as she came to the realization that her child was screaming nearby. She abandoned the lifeless body of her husband and rushed over to the sandbox, grabbing the boy up in a protective hug. He cried even more – probably frightened after seeing red speckles all over his mother's face. I was sure that kid could feel her distress.

I didn't know a lot about children – I couldn't even guess the age of the little one, but one thing I figured out was that they picked up on moods quite easily. Especially when it was their parents – and judging by the panic Tracy was still in, the toddler wasn't going to stop crying any time soon.

Tracy was forced to face her husband's body in order to keep the toddlers wandering eyes over her shoulder away from the horrific scene. It couldn't have been easy.

Sirens in the distance was a welcoming sign.

I was curious to know why there were still no residents or _anybody_ , for that matter, out on the street to find out what was going on. Maybe they feared that the shooter was still out there. Well…

I'd calm their paranoid qualms by telling them my rifle was neatly packed away already, but that wasn't going to happen, now was it?

I just felt sorry for the mother and son to have to go through this alone.

This is why I hated staying behind. Having to witness the ramifications of my actions. It was more like punishment than anything else. I didn't want to see people cry over their beloved ones. Or their struggle to keep themselves and other people around them calm.

First to arrive on the scene was a marked police car. Great. Time to start rehearsing the escape in my mind.

Two male officers exited the squad car and quickly secured the immediate surrounding area. One went to assess the body of Boz Anderson, the other rushed over to Tracy Anderson and their toddler son.

An ambulance made its appearance and came to an abrupt stop next to the squad car.

I fidgeted nervously, wishing they'd hurry and let me be on my way – before more squad cars arrived. Before the police started asking questions and wanting to secure more of the area.

The paramedics had split up – one assessed Tracy and the kid, while the other was inspecting the gunshot wound on the obviously deceased.

I waited.

The first sign was when the paramedic looked up, first at her partner, then the cop by her side, and ruefully shook her head. Boz was gone.

Another cry tore into the crisp air. This one was filled with pain and regret. They'd just informed Tracy. The cop by her side asked some questions. I watched her meekly pull back a Parka jacket sleeve, checking the time for the first time since I pulled the trigger.

A quick confirmation at my own watch, it was already eighteen minutes later.

"Time of death, approximately 11:10AM."

See?

Concept of time disappeared in situations like these. People just couldn't grasp it.

I repeated the confirmation into my mouthpiece, and scanned the area one last time to ensure I could make a seamless escape. Time was running out for me; people were finally piling into the street, careful not to see too much, though curiosity pushed some of them closer to the crime scene. More squad cars were on the way, I could hear them coming from one direction only. Good.

 _"Target elimination confirmed. Debriefing at sixteen hundred hours sharp. Over and out, Davies."_

I pulled the ear-and-mouth piece away and pushed it haphazardly into my rifle bag. With everything stacked away, I could finally make my way out of there.

It was almost time to go home. One more day in this fucked-up cold weather, and then I could head back to sunny Cal.

I loved the traveling. But I hated the cold.

And I hated my job.

* * *

 **I never told you what I do for a living – My Chemical Romance**


	3. Anywhere else but here

**A/N: Thank you everyone for reading and reviewing the first 2 chapters – there's plenty more to follow; all I ask is patience as I cannot reveal anything about the plot and characters just yet! For all the Spencer-fans... I promise she is definitely in the fic with a very important role - just keep on reading - things will make sense soon!**

 **SonFan – CH1/2: Thank you so much! It's been quite a difficult one but I believe it will turn out to be a good fic! Thanks for reading and reviewing!**

 **Trmack9 – CH1: Believe me, Spencer has a huge role in the fic, just not yet! Thanks for reading and reviewing!**

 **Guest – CH1: Thank you! I have so many ideas so will be posting a lot of fics for a while! This one will definitely be longer – much, much longer actually! And a whole lot of detail - the element of build-up and suspense has been helping with that! Thanks for reading and reviewing!**

 **Melirufus – CH1/2: Thank you for the kind compliment about my updating and writing! I wish I could say what the fic is based on but it would spoil the entire story :( Not based on Bourne Supremacy though... just a couple more chapters when I can finally say something about the idea behind the story ;) Spencer has a huge role but won't appear right now – it's a long fic with the chapters already plotted out! When she** ** _does_** **come in... all I can say is keep on reading! Thanks for reading and reviewing!**

 **Southtrash – CH 2: I'm so glad you're intrigued- trust me when I say I'm super excited to update so I'm working hard to get chapters up asap! Thanks for reading and reviewing!**

 **Guest – CH 1: I couldn't get your entire review properly translated; what I could make out was Ashley dreaming of a family and house with little ones (mini Ashleys and Spencers) - all I can say is keep on reading - I cannot reveal anything about the plot at this stage and also not the ending! It's just one of those stories that has to be patiently read - I'm sorry! Thanks for reading and reviewing!**

 **Guest – CH2: Keep on bouncing – next chapter is here! I don't like keeping people in the dark but this fic is just of such nature that you'll just have to keep on reading to find out what it's about. Thanks for reading and reviewing!**

 **Mellyb14 – CH2: Thank you! I'm posting as often as I can – this fic is taking a lot more effort and I want it to be really good – so please keep on reading :) Thanks for reading and reviewing!**

* * *

 **Ashley**

 **Anywhere else but here**

I couldn't understand why I always had to stay longer than deemed necessary. It was already just after 7PM, the debriefing had gone well, and the brutal murder of Boz Anderson was now all over the news. It made me nervous. Airports checked bags. Though only the camera was visible at a glance, once the bag went through the x-ray machine, people could see pieces of what could easily be distinguished as a weapon hidden away in soft pockets.

I was lucky to have such a state-of-the-art weapon. Apparently it was mine while I was still a Marine. I had no recollection of being in the army. All I knew was the rifle could dismantle to quite an amount of small pieces, small enough not to carry around in a normal case or rifle bag.

I'd obviously never gotten caught before – that after numerous airport checks.

Maybe it was just nerves – I was always like this when I had to travel after a job.

 _"…Anderson was a Senior Forensic Auditor at Paterson & Hughes, Wall Street's most reputable Accounting firm. They boast political clients all over the US. For more on this story, please stay tuned, I'm Veronica Sanders, reporting live for DNC…"_

Of course it made headlines. My eyes were fixed on the scene behind the reporter, the park from earlier that morning marked off with red police tape, flashing blue-and-red lights illuminating the dark, buzzing crime scene. It was interesting that they haven't wrapped it up yet, it's been eight hours already. Maybe the case was a lot bigger than I was led on. Not that it mattered – my job was simple. Assess, plan, and execute. I didn't ask questions or inquire about the background of the clients or their reasons.

"Scary, huh?"

I was brought out of my musings by the old, weathered barman who had his eyes on the TV as well. I scanned him quickly, and then just took a quick glance around, trying to see who was watching the news and if any eyes were on me.

I haven't been compromised.

I liked this bar. It was small, fairly packed, and had that warm vibe of belonging. It wasn't as dimly lit as other bars where you could barely see anything. Yellow, warm down lights provided ample lighting to not feel invaded, but also not to wonder what's in your drink. The mahogany bar counter was long and full of indentations – years of drink trading, probably some bar fights, and exchange of coins. I wouldn't be surprised to see some names or initials carved out either. The rest of the little room was equipped with all shapes of tables and bar stools – giving the place an eccentric feel.

"Yeah, it really is. Right in front of his wife and kid, it must suck." My raspy voice cracked, and I knew things were starting to take its toll on me. I haven't cared for a really long time. But the past couple of jobs stuck with me. It felt like I was growing a conscience.

I didn't like the feeling at all.

"Can I get you another one?"

My eyes followed his to the empty glass in my hands. I'd been nurturing the glass for a while now, contemplating my next move. Sleep wasn't going to come easy, yet I wanted to be fresh and alert for my early morning flight back to LA. I could probably stay for another whiskey.

"Yeah… why not. Make it a double, please." I fished for my wallet and decided to settle the tab, that way I wouldn't stay too long.

The barman caught a glimpse at my driver's license and smiled. "Oh, you're a Cali girl?"

I tensed. _Breathe. Remember why you're here._

"Yeah, your weather really sucks," I smiled. "Going back tomorrow, thank goodness."

He grabbed a clean glass and tilted the bottle of JD, the smooth golden liquid splashing over a couple of ice cubes. I couldn't help but stare at his actions. He treated his job as an art. It was interesting to watch.

"So what brought you to NY? Too hot for LA?" He smirked at his own joke, wiping his hands on the white towel casually thrown over his shoulder as he finished up.

"Thanks… but no. I'm a photo-journalist. Had to get some snow shots for our next editorial."

He nodded, obviously stunned. Hot girls like me didn't do stuff like that. "Sounds intriguing. Do you enjoy it?"

I scoffed. If only he knew. "I love it. I love the traveling. Hate the cold, though."

He laughed and handed me my drink, taking cash from me in exchange. I tried to travel with the smallest denominations possible. Attracted less attention. "It's not much – but keep the change."

"Thanks." He smiled and tossed the coins into a jar marked _'Tips'_.

"Hey, can I get some service over here?"

We both turned and noticed how more patrons seemed to be filling the bar.

The barman excused himself and I was grateful, not wanting to talk at all. I needed time to work through my thoughts and emotions. I had to be mentally ready when I landed back in LA, there was already another job waiting for me, and it sounded like there wasn't a lot of time.

My mind drifted back to the crime scene, to Tracy and their toddler. I remembered the way she held him away from seeing what had happened to his father. It broke me a little. It was okay to do this to hard, unworthy men who dealt with shady things, but it was brutal to have done what I did today. Take a life, in front of a wife and kid. I took that father away. Probably the breadwinner of the house. I tried to remember the bits of conversation I could hear – and I understood now that I was hired to silence Boz Anderson. He knew something, he'd come across something that people didn't want to be seen.

For an Accounting firm that dealt mostly with politicians and public accounts, the thought dawned on me that they were trying to cover up something. And I'd killed an innocent man. An innocent family man.

I detested feeling like this, and trying to figure out what was behind my contracts. If I was going to let each one trouble me like this, I might as well quit while I'm ahead.

But quitting was out of the question.

The only way out for me was death. I'd probably be taken out the same way I executed people. Unknowingly. Sometimes I wondered if I shouldn't just do that. I'd be a nervous wreck because I'd know it's coming. But it would be over in a split second.

"You're too good-looking to be sitting here all by yourself. Is this seat taken?"

The constant interruptions were frustrating. I really needed to work through my thoughts and get it out of my system. But it didn't look like that was going to happen soon.

I glanced up into green eyes. Soft, green eyes. A friendly smile waited for recognition. I gave her a quick once-over, and decided that I liked what I saw.

I pulled out the bar stool next to me and gestured for her to sit down.

"Can I have what she's having?" she asked the barman before turning to me.

A smile tugged the corners of her lips. "What _are_ you having, so by the way?"

I returned the smile. "JD on ice."

She strategically placed her hand close to mine, back to nurturing my glass. "I'm Paige."

"Ashley."

"My friends over there," she threw her head back, nodding towards a group of women occupying a round booth, "recon they've seen you before."

I smirked. "I highly doubt that."

"Oh? You're not from here, then?" Paige asked curiously. I knew she already knew the answer. She was a player – just like me.

"You know that already," I smiled, taking a sip of my JD. Putting my glass down, I rested my hand on top of hers. "You've got beautiful hands."

A raised eyebrow and chuckle showed off her delicate features. She had a sharp face, with long, straight brunette hair adding volume to what would have looked scary otherwise. I wasn't overly attracted, but I was intrigued.

"So do you, but you know that already," she quipped back. Her eyes were on mine, her free hand sandwiching mine between hers. "And I bet they can do beautiful things, too."

They could, indeed.

"The bathrooms are fairly clean here…"

Did I have hooker written all over my face or something?

I didn't let the thought linger as I jumped up from the bar stool, chugging the remaining whiskey down my throat in one go. Then, pulling her own delicate hands, I made my way over to the fairly clean bathrooms, pushing her up against the door the moment it swung shut.

Maybe there _was_ a way to get everything out of my system tonight…

* * *

Checking in went easier than I thought. I realized that I sometimes underestimated the agency. The camera bag they've provided, with its hidden pockets, went through the x-ray machine without any problems. The pockets were reinforced with some sort of x-ray proof material, so it really looked like just an ordinary sling bag. I'd bought a photography magazine just for added effect, so plopping it down into the small tray with my phone and other small belongings, I got a knowing smile from the security lady. Yep, touristy indeed.

When we finally boarded I felt myself relaxing. I hadn't slept well the previous night despite a very intense workout with Paige from the bar. I'd underestimated her too – she was a minx in bed. But even after hours of hot sex, I couldn't put my mind to rest.

I secured myself into my window seat, staring out at an impressive array of other airplanes on the runway. It was amazing how such big aircrafts could withstand the force of landing. Not even to talk about getting so high up in the air.

I loved flying – it was the only time I could really get myself to switch off and not think about anything related to my miserable life or job. I was very well off, the job paid extremely well. But all the money in the world couldn't take away the loneliness or the feeling of regret every time I pulled that trigger. But without that, I was nothing. I didn't know anything else about myself. It was unnerving.

"Ladies and gentlemen, welcome aboard Flight 254-B for Green Airlines. I am Brent Jones, your captain for this flight, and my co-pilot Liam Willis, will be accompanying us. We will be flying west-bound today towards sunny California – if sunshine is not your destination then please check your boarding passes and flight details. Estimated flight time is five hours and forty minutes. Our cabin crew will shortly guide you through safety precautions and thereafter we'll make our way onto the runway for take-off. Please ensure to switch off all cabin lights and keep the window-covers open until we are up in the air. Thank you for flying with Green Airlines and enjoy your flight!"

I had the utmost respect for these people. It was such a mundane thing to do day in and day out, yet no flight was ever the same.

The lights went on for passengers to fasten their seat-belts, and I ensured that I was safely tucked away. I couldn't wait until we were up in the air. I'd have one whiskey, maybe, and then get some much needed sleep.

The was a lot of activity until the cabin crew finally had the passengers' attention, and carefully guided them through safety regulations.

I just closed my eyes, allowing the soothing rustle and voices pull me away from reality and into a dreamless, ample slumber.

* * *

No matter how short or long flights were, or even how well I slept on the plane, I always felt tired after traveling. It was just after 2PM when I finally set foot into my apartment, feeling a sense of relief wash over me when I found myself in comforting familiarity. Everything was just as I left it a couple of weeks ago. Somewhat dusty, but otherwise spotless.

I'd decided to take another nap, and then head out to meet up with one of my fellow agents who was to brief me on the next job and hand over the case files. And I figured after that, I could hook up with one of my semi-regular girls, since I still felt bothered by the New York job. I had to get it out of my system before the Agency noticed.

Five o'clock came quicker than I'd wanted, and groaned as I got up to take a shower. At least it was warm in LA and I didn't have to worry about water warming up or freezing while I got undressed. The hot spray of water soothed my tense body and I started feeling better, managing to start putting New York behind me. It wasn't going to disappear overnight, but letting go systematically was already helping. I couldn't help but replay Tracy's hysteric reaction on announcement of Boz's death in my head. And their toddler son, crying, as if knowing he was going to grow up without a father. An innocent man, killed.

 _Stop it._

It was done – and there was nothing I could do about it. I just hoped the next job would be someone who didn't have a family who'd miss him. I prayed that he was a drug dealer, or even a murderer, even though I wouldn't want murderers to be out on the street. Double standards much?

Whatever the job was, I hoped it was good justice. I could live with that.

* * *

"Your jobs will get more difficult over time, Davies, there's nothing we can do about it. You're one of the best agents out there. So you can understand it's expected of you to be able to handle this?"

I stared at Aiden Dennison, a pit in my stomach. Not only was he a fellow agent, my analyst and guide, he had also become a close friend – my _only_ friend – during the couple of years that I've been working for the Agency.

"Aiden…" I swallowed hard, overly anxious about voicing my thoughts. "I don't know if I can do this."

"Ash," he sighed and covered my shaking hand with his. "This conversation is off the record. As a friend, I'm advising you to think about this really hard. I know it's difficult, and I promise to be here for you all the way. But you know what will happen if – "

I cut him off. "Yeah, I know the consequences." I closed my eyes briefly and took a deep breath, unable to shake the uneasiness about the new case. Things were just getting worse and worse.

When I opened my eyes again I found him staring at me with utmost sympathy.

"Can I get you anything? A strong drink perhaps?"

He was a gentle soul. Despite our difficult jobs, I was grateful to have found a compassionate friend in him. The world needed more people who cared.

"No, I just – just a coffee." I shook my head as if trying to shake off the information I'd just received. I refused to look down at the manila folder waiting to spill details about the next job. I'd already looked at it once, I wasn't sure if I could stomach it again.

Aiden motioned for a waitress to head over to our small table in the quaint little coffee shop not far from his apartment. Apart from us, there was only one other couple, seated several tables away from us. Aiden usually chose coffee shops, and always found half-empty ones, for our case discussions. Less people, less risky.

"How can I help you, sir?"

"Uh, hi, yeah, can I just get two coffees, please? Ash, do you want anything else?"

I shook my head, scared he'd hear my voice cracking if I spoke.

For the hard person I've become, it felt strange to be close to tears.

I didn't know how I was going to get through this new job, especially not after New York.

But I knew it had to be done, or I was done.

At this stage I was considering my options…

* * *

I didn't even go home. After my meeting with Aiden, I headed straight to a hotel, booked a lush room, and then found the bar where I could find Madison Duarte, Manager, and to me, well, let's just say she was extremely good at taking my mind off things.

"What's on your mind, babe?"

The case file was burning holes through my messenger bag. It was risky to have it on me, but right now I couldn't care less. I needed to get my mind off of it, even if just for one night. The next couple of days were going to be extremely hard, and busy. I literally had a week to prepare for this job. A job that I didn't want to do. My stomach churned at the thought of it.

I sighed. "Just a busy week ahead. Grueling meetings and I'll probably be out photographing every day. I just don't like the subject."

Madison's face turned into a supportive pout and she pushed a glass of whiskey towards me. "Aaaw, I'm sorry babe. Here, it's on me."

I smiled gratefully. "Are you free later tonight?"

The green-eyed Latina girl smiled widely. She knew exactly what those words meant. I was glad she smiled – it meant that she was free indeed. I gave a small smile myself, indulging my thoughts in that very luscious body of hers.

"I'm actually off tonight – just came in to check that Joe's got everything under control. We can leave after your drink, if you want."

Just what I needed to hear.

* * *

After having made sure Madison was satisfied for a while, I knew she'd be able to sleep for an hour or so before we continued pleasuring each other's bodies. I hadn't meant to fall asleep myself, so it came as quite a surprise when I glanced at the red digital display on the nightstand on my side to see two hours had passed.

The bed was cold and empty next to me, and I figured Madison had probably gone over to the bar fridge to get some water, but movement in the dark room made me freeze. It was pitch dark, but my trained eyes could make out a form close to the hotel room door. Not that that scared me – it was Madison, after all, but listening carefully, I could hear her rumbling through a bag.

My heart started pounding against my chest. What the hell was she doing? I really hoped she was just looking for something in her clutch.

But my fears soon turned into terror that froze my veins as I watched through squinted eyelids as Madison switched on her phone, and used the backlight to assist her ruffling through my messenger bag. I was sure my heart stopped the moment she pulled out that treacherous manila folder. The way she was purposefully looking through my stuff, I knew that she wasn't just looking for lipstick, money, or something trivial. She was here for a reason.

My blood ran cold as she opened and browsed through the case file I could hardly stomach myself.

Except for the quiet noise when carefully turning pages, Madison was exceptionally quiet. No shocked gasps as she read about my job – my _real_ job. I wasn't a photographer who did photo shoots. I was an assassin who did real shooting – with a sniper rifle. I wasn't sure if she knew this or only realized it when she started snooping through my stuff, but one thing was for sure.

I was in deep shit.

It didn't take her long to read about my new case, and finally, after just a couple of minutes that felt like an eternity to me, she closed the file and shoved it back into my bag. I closed my eyes quickly and tried my best to pretend I was still asleep. Not knowing who she really was, I knew I was in a very compromised position. All I could do, really, was to act like I didn't know a thing.

I felt the bed dip next to me, and then soft hands caressing my still naked torso. I really hoped she didn't have a weapon on her.

"Babe," Madison whispered, her mouth close to my ears. Her breath caused a trail of goosebumps to raise all over my body.

I faked a soft groan and finally opened my eyes, scared of what I'd find. But she smiled down at me and I knew she was ready for another round.

I was going to have to pull out all the stops. I needed her to pass out again. And then disappear.

Fuck my life. This was not good – at all…

* * *

 **Anywhere else but here – Simple Plan**


	4. Fly from the inside

**A/N: Thank you all so much for reading and reviewing! As promised, I'm trying to update as much as I can – before you lose interest! Thanks to all the faithful readers sticking to the mystery, things will unfold soon, I promise!**

 **SonFan – CH3: Thank you! You'll find out soon enough about Madison's intentions… she's there for a reason ;) Please don't hate me but that's really all I can say! Thanks for reading and reviewing!**

 **Guest – CH3: Don't worry, I won't abandon this fic, I've got too much invested, and I can't start any other stories without finishing this first, so… you'll get an ending, don't worry! Thank you for the compliment, I really try to get the writing right and have the chapters flowing, though in this specific fic it's a bit different. Spencer will be in the fic but like I mentioned previously, not quite yet. Ashley and Madison… sorry for that image! But I had to! Thanks for reading and reviewing!**

 **Mellyb14 – CH3: I'm really glad that you're enjoying the story and the mystery, there's a lot of twists so please keep on reading 'til the end ;) Thanks for reading and reviewing!**

 **Anjela78 – CH3: Welcome back ;) I'm glad to see you're reading this fic! I can't reveal Madison's role yet – I'm sure by all the feedback I've given it's frustrating that I can't really say anything except for begging everyone to just keep on reading! Yes, Ashley's role isn't the most noble, but don't lose hope in her, you'll forgive her later in the story and I promise Spashley will prevail in the end! Thanks for reading and reviewing!**

* * *

 **Ashley**

 **Fly from the inside**

"There's two ways out of this, Ashley."

I nodded, already knowing what he was going to say.

I'd phoned Aiden the minute I got out of the hotel room, and made a dash for it. I was too scared to go home, in fear that someone might be waiting for me. But Aiden had run Madison's ID and couldn't find her on any FBI or CIA database, or any Agency that was affiliated with us.

"You know that she might have just gotten suspicious. Maybe you slipped up somewhere."

I nodded again, refusing to relax until I knew exactly who Madison Duarte was.

I rested my head on the tinted window of Aiden's SUV, trying to stay calm. The past couple of weeks were really starting to get under my skin.

"Ash…" He reached out and put his hand on my shoulder. "This will stay between us, but you need to get rid of her, before anything gets out."

That was one option. The other was to inform the Agency that I'd been compromised. I'd be pulled into investigation, which could take months to settle, and in the meantime my already shitty life would be up in more shambles. I almost considered it, knowing I wouldn't have to do any jobs, but there were far worse things waiting for me. Aiden had told me once that their interrogation tactics were anything but humane – even against agents who'd been working there for years. Once there was a breach of trust, it was as good as over.

I wasn't sure if I could handle that. My life was already torturous as it was – I wasn't going to willingly get myself tortured any more.

"Are you sure my place is secure?" Maybe if I avoided the situation for a while, it would go away.

Aiden gave my shoulder a squeeze. "Everything's fine. I'll go up with you just to make sure. If you want to, you can stay with me for a couple of days."

I was grateful for his offer. "Thanks, Aiden, I really appreciate it. Would you mind if we just go grab my gear and some clothes? I'll need to start working on the Miller case."

"Consider it done. Just one thing though… You'll need to stop, you know, with girls, for a while. Just until this thing with this Duarte girl settles."

I haven't even thought about that. It was somewhat unsettling – I needed to get the pent up energy out some way. But I supposed I could go work out with Aiden in the mornings. And start jogging again. That was probably the best for me right now. "It sucks, but I understand."

"I do have a gym…"

"I know," I gave a slight smile, closing my eyes as he started his car so we could head over to my place.

I had to come up with a plan sort things out with Madison Duarte, and soon.

* * *

The more of a conscience I was growing, the more frighteningly horrible things I had to do. I was completely torn about Madison, and even more perturbed about my new case.

I scanned over the file for the umpteenth time, wishing the details would change. The target's age, to start with. This was another innocent execution, and I absolutely hated it. Why were people so heartless?

 _Why are you so heartless?_

I tried to convince myself that I wasn't, but at the end of the day, the decision to pull that trigger and take that life was still mine.

I wished there was someone I could talk to – someone other than Aiden – who had no ties to the Agency. I needed a friend, someone close, who wouldn't judge me for the things I've done and were to do, who could just help me make a decision to get out of this. I needed someone who knew the Ashley I didn't know.

I was starting to get scared of my own emotions, of being in my own head so much. Every minute of every passing day my thoughts were consumed with what I have become and the terrible things I was doing.

Movement outside the guest bedroom of Aiden's spacious apartment caught my eye, and when I looked up, he came to lean on the doorframe, sweaty after a strenuous workout.

"How's things going?"

I shrugged. "As good as can be. I should be ready for Friday."

Aiden nodded, pleased with my answer. I had to work hard to hide my emotions from him. Even though he had become a personal friend, the risk was always there that he'd report back to the Agency about my sudden sprout of conscience.

"Hey, can I ask you a personal question?" I'd wanted to ask him forever, but the time was never right. Being comfortable in his own house, I figured Aiden would talk a little bit more about himself.

He surprised me by grabbing the desk chair he'd put in the room for me, and sat down, completely relaxed. "Sure, what's up?"

"How come you're not in the field like me? You're really good at what you're doing – "

Aiden smiled warmly but I noticed the sad tone in his voice. "I used to. But I was in a serious car accident when a job went terribly wrong – intel was totally out from the Agency's side. My spine was injured and for a while I couldn't walk. I still have problems with my back – so I can't get declared fit for the field again."

I felt my heart going out to him. But in a way he was extremely lucky. He didn't ever have to pull triggers again. "Do you miss it?"

Aiden nodded, but a second later shook his head. "Yes… and no. I loved it, don't get me wrong. I've been doing it for so long that it was the only thing I knew I could do well. But after the accident… it made me realize that I enjoyed different things. I really enjoy what I do now – I love being an analyst and being your eyes and ears – it makes me feel important, you know?"

I didn't know. Doing what I did made me feel terrible. I felt bad for Aiden, but he had no idea how lucky he really was. "Yeah…"

"Look, Ash, it's okay. I mean, it took a while to get over it. But I'm okay – I'm really happy. And I'm glad that we get to hang out a bit without having to talk cases the entire time. I know it's not really allowed, but it's good to have a friend who knows how lonely it can get sometimes."

"So after the accident… did the Agency offer you a different position?" I pressed innocently. I was getting more answers than I bargained for.

"Yeah, they felt bad for the intel blunder. There's a couple other marksmen they've also recruited as analysts and others as eyes and ears. All of them had gotten injured or something. So they look after us Ash, you don't ever have to worry about that."

It felt like a weight had just lifted off my shoulders. I wasn't sure why, but it felt like there was light in the pitch black tunnel I found myself in. I just needed time to process all this information and see how I could get it to work for me.

"So," Aiden continued, unaware of my inner rantings. He got up and gently sat down next to me on the bed. "Is there anything you want to get off your chest? You know I'm here for you, no matter what."

I appreciated him, I really did. But sometimes I wondered if Aiden didn't maybe want something more from me. "No, I'm good, really. It's like you said – it's just nice to talk to a friend sometimes."

His arm was around my shoulder before I could stop him. "Are you okay after, you know, the thing with Madison?"

Bile was rising up in my throat. I shook off his arm and got up, not wanting him so close to me, and definitely not wanting to talk about Madison. "I'm fine, really."

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to make you feel uncomfortable. I just want you to know I'm here, Ash. To talk, to listen, whenever you need me."

"Thanks, Aiden."

* * *

I regretted the arrival of this day ever since I first heard about it back in New York. Even before I knew exactly what the job entailed, I knew back then already that something wasn't right.

Staring at the football field of a high profile prep school in West Hollywood should be all the explanation why this wasn't right.

I took a deep breath and settled on the roof of the press box, already feeling the sting of the sun on my neck. I should have brought water or something – lying in the sun for three to four hours, in dark clothing, was definitely not good. But I couldn't take anything with me that could compromise myself in any way. Water bottles could be left behind, leaving fingerprints and DNA. Or I could accidentally lose the cap. There were so many things that could go wrong.

I knew though, that the training I'd received when I started this job, had prepared me for conditions like this – even if I couldn't remember.

I was grateful for the intense training at Aiden's place the past week, it was really going to help.

I thought of him a lot lately. I wondered who he was before he'd joined the Agency, and how he was recruited. I wondered if he just woke up one day like myself and could just do all these things without knowing how it ever happened. I wanted to ask him, I really did, but I was petrified of Aiden getting suspicious. He was a friend, but we were still employed by the same company. In a way they'd instilled fear in all their employees. I didn't want to compromise either of us.

I was nervous for more than one reason today. Every night after Aiden had gone to bed, I stayed up for hours later, doing a different training routine. And intense planning. What I was planning to do today was either going to save or kill me. I just knew after this job I couldn't anymore. Hopefully they'd recruit me as an analyst or eyes and ears afterwards. I'd be okay with that. As long as I didn't have to pull triggers anymore.

Ground staff stole my attention as they started packing chairs out on the football field. It took them an hour, and I was awed by the way they'd done it. The 50-yard line was covered with a red carpet, creating an isle to divide parents from students. Next was the stage, which was done by an outside events company. I wondered briefly how much money the school spent on graduation each year. I could imagine it was quite a bit, since it was a prep school, and from what I could see, quite an impressive setup. The sound system went up last, and I was relieved that I could hear every word being tested through the microphones clearly, even being so far away. It would make things a lot easier.

It didn't take long for the crew to finish up and remove any debris and extra equipment from the field. I glanced at my watch; 9AM. One hour to go. Today's timing wouldn't be precise. Today's job was also a lot more risky – there would be security detail, and the moment I took the shot, I had to disappear. Thank goodness. I wouldn't be able to stomach waiting for paramedics anyway.

I took a deep breath, trying to mentally prepare myself. It wasn't as easy as all the other jobs. I was worried about so many things. The shot, the escape, and the second escape. A lot could go wrong today. I wished there was a way I could avoid the shot. But there would be no excuse for me. I had a very clear vision of the stage.

Two other agents would be outside to take care of security personnel. Aiden would be waiting in my SUV – he was still my eyes and ears. I'd drive us out of here to safety. Two other SUV's would follow us from the Agency. This was a big job. An important job. A high-profile job. There was so much at stake.

It figures; having to kill the Mayor's teenage daughter on her day of graduation…

* * *

 **Fly from the inside - Shinedown**


	5. Crossroads

**A/N: There is method in the madness… please don't give up on this fic!Everything will be explaining itself... eventually ;)  
**

* * *

 **Ashley**

 **Crossroads**

The football field was packed, chairs already filled with students and parents. Teachers and board members were seated on stage, while the principal was opening the floor for the Mayor's daughter; Sasha Miller.

It was supposed to be a memorable day for this class – about to graduate and embark on the journey of their futures. I couldn't even remember my own graduation.

 _"Davies, what's your status?"_

It was almost time.

With a heavy heart, my ritual kicked in. I traced the tattoo on the inside of my right wrist, wishing I could draw strength from it, whatever it meant. I didn't know anything of significance that started with an _S_ , or anyone, for that matter. Today I wished more than anything I knew where it came from.

I traced it a second time, for good luck, and continued with my ritual, focusing my scope, locking on to Sasha Miller on the stage almost four hundred feet away, and tapped the trigger with my index finger three times.

 _"Locked on target, awaiting confirmation."_ I hoped my voice sounded steady enough after I'd spent almost twenty minutes crying.

Aiden didn't seem to have noticed. _"Stand by for confirmation, Davies."_

I took a deep breath to steady my racing heart, knowing it was a futile attempt. I didn't know how I was going to survive this.

She was seventeen years old. She was planning to become a psychologist or something in that direction. She was the most popular girl in school, and everyone loved her – close peers and even kids she didn't hang out with. She went against her father's wishes and applied to UCLA instead of Yale or Harvard. Her father, Dan, who was the Mayor of Los Angeles, had been a popular, beloved candidate two years ago when he first got elected. But as things were now, he was hated by a lot of people.

Why? Why did she have to pay with _her_ life for _him_ to wake up?

It tore me apart.

"'Embrace those parts of yourself that you've skillfully avoided until now. That's your true adventure.'" Her voice traveled across the field, strong and steady. She was elected as the valedictorian for their class. It must have been a great honor. I already liked the start of her speech.

 _"Stand by, Davies."_

Her time was running out.

I really wished there was something I could do – _anything_ – to just get her attention, maybe the attention of their security detail. Her father hadn't even bothered to show up. He sent a lousy team out – they were conspicuous and very oblivious.

A thought occurred to me – and without thinking, I played around with my watch, trying to get the sunlight to reflect off the protective glass. It wasn't that strong, but any kind of distraction right now would help. I just needed her security guards to notice that she got sidetracked.

"Fellow graduates, members of the board, Principal Harper, patient and beloved teachers, and very important, dear parents…"

She paused. And looked up.

My heart was in my throat, urging her security guards to look up. _Come on, you useless pieces of shit, follow her eyes!_

I glanced through the scope, and saw her squinting directly at me – at my watch.

That should have been a sign. Could their security be any more pathetic?

I was beyond frustrated as Sasha continued with her speech, unaffected by my attempt to save her life.

"Because, fellow graduates, life… only starts today."

The tears started rolling again. If only she knew that her life was going to end today. I tried again, hopelessly, to distract her with my watch, before –

 _"Take your shot, Davies."_

For the first time since I could remember, my finger trembled on the trigger. My chest tightened and my heart constricted as I put force in my hand, straining the muscle on my index finger to unwillingly do what I was supposed to do.

"Before I continue with a speech I hope all of you will take to heart and carry it with you forever, I first want to give thanks to – "

The trigger had clicked back, and it took less than a second for the high-spec bullet to connect with Sasha's forehead.

With a terrible nauseating feeling, I watched her crumble to the floor on the stage, and then adrenaline kicked in. In the seconds it took for the entire field – security included – to figure out what was going on, I took the opportunity to make my escape. Any second now they'd realize it had been a hit, and all exits would be closed, roofs would be scoped out, people would be running around like crazy.

I was already on the ground when I heard the first screams. Then a fire alarm.

I had to make my way out through the school building, so as students rushed out into the hallways, I joined the rush, blending in. All I had to do was get to the front doors, where most of them were headed.

The SUV was parked, idling, in a little side road, just away from all the chaos that was bound to fall upon the school parking lot.

Everything happened so fast.

I made it through the doors with hordes of kids. Stumbled down the stairs with them. And seamlessly made my escape, unnoticed by anyone.

"You okay?" Aiden asked as I jumped into the driver's seat.

I flung my bag to the back, slammed the door shut, and lay my foot down on the accelerator. "I'll tell you when we make it out of here," I breathed out, unable to contain myself. The mixture of adrenaline and a broken heart was difficult to control.

It took two minutes for the other Agency vehicles to catch up with us – they were supposed to be behind us from the beginning.

"I'm getting reports that they're on us. Get onto the highway, I'll feed you more directions as soon as they give us an exit plan," Aiden told me, a worried expression on his face. He pressed his hand to his earpiece, listening to instructions from our headquarters.

I didn't know whether this was good or bad.

"Everything went fine on my side – I got out without anyone noticing" I defended myself before he could even say anything.

Our backup shouldn't have been delayed. They were supposed to be out even before me.

Aiden glanced at me, and I suddenly felt nauseous all over again. I wanted to escape, really, I did, but I haven't done anything to compromise the mission up to this point – unless you considered trying to distract Sasha, which failed.

"What is it?" I asked him, torn between keeping my eyes on the road and trying to read his expression.

"We've been compromised. It could have been Madison," he said softly.

My heart stopped. "I _told_ you, I took care of her."

Aiden shook his head ruefully. "I think it was too late, Ash. I'm sorry, but I had to inform the Agency."

I slammed on the brakes, nearly causing the agents behind us to crash into my SUV. "Are you fucking serious right now?" He betrayed me!

Aiden refused to look at me – his concentration was on the cars behind us. I could faintly make out the sound of police sirens. "Ashley, keep driving!"

My blood was boiling as my foot hit the accelerator again. Within seconds we reached the first onramp and I took it, finding it easier to navigate my way on wider lanes. We were going 100MPH, still gaining speed as I expertly handled my SUV on the highway. I was grateful for the advanced driving training I'd received – even though I didn't remember this either.

"You _told_ them? How _could_ you, Aiden? They're going to kill me, aren't they?" I yelled at him hysterically, all the while swerving between cars. The other two SUV's were still behind us, and I suddenly wondered if they were following for an escape, or actually chasing me now.

"Ashley, this entire job was put on risk because of Madison. If it wasn't as high profile I would never have done that. I'm your friend – I'm on your side, you _have_ to believe me," Aiden defended himself. He gripped the grab-handle above his window, his body slightly flailing as I glided across lanes.

I was beyond upset. And worried. This was not how I had planned things. I wondered for a brief second if things went astray because I'd traced the _S_ on my wrist twice today.

"Are they chasing me or following us?" I refused to accept any apologies from him. As far as I was concerned, I now had an enemy – or hostage – in the car with me.

Aiden dropped his head. "Chasing."

"Fuck, Aiden!"

"Look." He pulled the mouthpiece from his wrist and tossed it to the back, and repeated the action with his earpiece. "I'm really sorry, Ashley. I know I betrayed you. I know things have been difficult for you lately – I've noticed since you came back from New York. I was going to talk to you after this to see if I could help you, but then Madison – "

"Fuck Madison, okay? You could have told me, Aiden! You could have warned me, this morning! It would have been enough time for me to think of something!"

"Ashley, you asked questions the other day which led me to believe that you already knew what you were going to do. Or at least planned – if not today, then another day. Tell me you weren't thinking about trying to get out of shooting."

How dared he question me? _I_ wasn't the one who betrayed _him_ – he had no right!

"Admit it, Ash – "

"Don't fucking call me that!"

"I can get you out of this, Ashley, but you'll have to trust me."

A tight swerve to the left – we almost hit a car, and then the barrier. Listening to Aiden's pathetic attempt to make up for my life that he had no regard for, was harder than trying to get away from the other agents, and now several police cruisers behind them. There was still some distance between us and the first agent's SUV – enough for me to figure out what I was going to do, while maneuvering through a slow buildup of traffic.

It was the indication to start looking for an off-ramp – it seemed like I'd be heading right into a gridlock soon.

"Trust _you_? Are you _high_?" I laughed out. I was close to losing it.

"Take the next off-ramp. Only change lanes when I tell you to." His total disregard for my anger towards him only fueled my annoyance more. But I followed his instructions regardless – I _did_ want to get off the highway.

From the corner of my eye I watched as Aiden kept his eyes on the rearview mirror, calculating when exactly I could cut in front of other cars to the outer lane to get away from the Agency and the cops. It sounded like an army of patrol vehicles behind us, and I was beginning to worry about our chances of escape.

"Ignore the cops – they won't get to us. Our concern is the Agency only. Do you trust me?" Aiden asked quietly, stealing a glance at me.

I took a second to look at him. He looked sincere. I held my breath and nodded.

Aiden checked the rearview mirror again, and then, suddenly, pushed the steering wheel up with such a force that I thought we were going to roll the car.

"Hold on! And keep turning to make the exit!"

I didn't have time to berate him for pulling such a terrifying move. I did as he instructed and we made a hasty turn, my side of the SUV scraping against the barriers. We hit a low median and without difficulty our car jumped it – right onto the off-ramp. The other SUV's from the Agency were too close to us to react – they both missed and continued veering through traffic – the squadron of cops on their tails.

"Don't slow down – keep going straight," Aiden instructed calmly.

I was shaken. Even somewhat excited from the adrenaline rush. "Holy crap – we ditched them!"

"Don't get too excited – there's another off-ramp not too far ahead. We'll need to find another car – all the SUV's are fitted with tracking devices."

I wasn't surprised at all. "Where are we going to find a – "

"There. Stop, right there." Aiden pointed ahead of us towards a small car dealership. It was all second-hand and I hoped these cars could drive, to start with. And that Aiden had cash on him, because I didn't.

"Stop here – don't switch off. I'm going to go get a car, and then you follow me down the street, okay?"

What the hell was he doing?

I watched in awe as Aiden jumped out, crouched towards the closest car – a red '69 Dodge Charger – and in a swift move, jimmied the lock. He jumped in unnoticed, and within seconds had it hot wired and started. The roaring sound of the engine turned heads, and he pulled out impressively, avoiding hitting the manager as he ran out to see what was going on.

I followed him down the street and my heart sank – not too far up ahead were the two black SUV's from the Agency. He'd tricked me!

I was about to do a U-turn when Aiden pushed on the brakes halfway into a side road, kept the car idling, and jumped out.

"Ashley, get in the car!" He yelled, running towards me.

I didn't wait for a second invitation.

"Take your gun! Don't leave without it!"

That wasn't a bad idea either.

I reached back and grabbed my camera sling bag, suddenly wary of tracking devices everywhere. I'd have to ditch the bag somewhere. I jumped out and slammed the door shut, ready to make a run for it.

Aiden finally met up with me, out of breath. He reached for the driver side door of the SUV and opened it.

"What the fuck are you doing?" I screamed at him.

"Ash, this is it. This is your chance to get out of this. I'm done, letting you go is the least I can do for you."

 _What?!_ My knees went weak.

"What? Aiden what are you talking about?" I was close to tears. I wasn't sure what his plan was, but I knew it was a terrible idea.

"You need to go – take the car and get as far away as you can. Get rid of the bag but don't ever lose your gun. Don't go back home, don't use any of your cards, or even your social security number. I left you some things in the car. Now, go! Before they see you!"

My legs refused to move. Tears were running down my cheeks as I stared into his green eyes. "Come with me – we both have a chance to get away," I begged him.

"Ash," Aiden said calmly, his hand reaching for my shoulder. "If we both leave, they will follow that car. We won't stand a chance. I don't have much time left, Ash, but _you_ do. Get away from it all and start over."

"I can't leave you here – " I cried desperately. What was he doing? They were going to kill him!

"Listen to me, you need to leave _now_ ," Aiden demanded sternly. Both his hands were on my shoulders now. "When you get to your car, I want you to get in and take out your gun. Once they pass you, Ash, take a shot at me."

My heart dropped. "What? Aiden, no!"

"Ashley! Do it, now! Or we will both die!" He pushed me away from him and turned to get in.

I was still unable to move.

"Ashley! If you don't do it, they will torture me! And if they catch you, they're going to kill us both. Get out of here now!"

I finally got feeling back in my legs, and started running towards the Dodge, though still in shock.

I was having a hard time processing what Aiden wanted me to do. I couldn't understand why he wouldn't escape with me – we had enough time when he stole that car. I just didn't understand.

Reaching the still idling car, I jumped into the driver seat, my body shuddering with sobs. I couldn't do this, I couldn't pull that trigger ever again. And not on Aiden. He might have betrayed me and landed us in this mess, but he was willing to give his life for me – to escape, to go and live an actual life. It was too difficult.

I watched as the two black SUV's raced past me, unaware of the Dodge just off the street. Aiden had a brilliant mind. I could just pull away and drive straight down the side street without the agents even noticing. By the time they realized I wasn't in the SUV anymore, I'd be long gone.

My heart sank as I thought about Aiden. I wondered what they would do to him. I couldn't stand the thought of him being tortured.

Staring at him, panicked as the agents came closer to him, I wiped furiously at my eyes, trying to get my scope focused through the tears to honor his last wish...

* * *

By the time I reached San Francisco, it was dark out and I was exhausted. I'd discovered while on the road that Aiden had left me a backpack full of cash, a couple of fake ID's and driver's licenses, and a printed road map. I was extremely overwhelmed by everything that had happened today, and still in shock at how it ended.

Aiden knew this was going to happen – he had planned ahead further than I would ever have imagined. And he had planned ahead for _me_ – which I could still not fathom.

Was he really able to tell I wanted out _so_ bad from only asking the questions I did? Why did he tell on me about Madison? And why didn't he escape with me?

The tears started rolling again – I wasn't sure where it all came from, I should have been cried out by now.

I just couldn't believe that what I'd gone through was real. Boz Anderson, Madison Duarte, Sasha Miller, Aiden Dennison. None of them should have died.

I had blood on my hands – and I would never be able to get over it. Never.

San Francisco was beautiful. I'd only been there twice, that I knew of, and always wished I'd be able to come back. I may have mentioned it to Aiden before – maybe he had listened more carefully than I realized. One of the ID's was for Frisco. I'd decided to stay for a while, check things out, keep a low profile.

I drove all the way through to Oakland, deciding I'd go and scope out the Bay Area in the morning or following days to come. All I wanted now was to take a shower, eat, and sleep – if that was at all possible.

I found a hotel that offered extended-stay suites, which was perfect. The room was perfect, the waterfront view offering serenity to my troubled mind. There was a lock-up safe hidden in the closet, which I was thankful for as I couldn't walk around with all the cash and ID's. At some point I'd also have to get rid of the Dodge – it was probably reported stolen by now.

But that was tomorrow's problem – all I could think of was grabbing something to eat and then head back in to deal with what has happened, or preferably, try and get some rest.

It was easy to find my away around – the nightlife was refreshing and it was nice to just take a walk in fresh air. I knew the trauma of the day was still going to hit me, I almost counted on it – too much, because I was so in thought about the heartache of today that I never saw the out-of-control car heading straight towards me…

* * *

 **Crossroads – Tracy Chapman**


	6. Fear

**A/N: Wow, some interesting reviews! Thanks to everyone who's still sticking to the mystery – things will start unfolding in the next couple of chapters!**

 **SoNFan – CH5: I wasn't planning on putting up 2 chapters, but I just could not get myself to stop writing! Thanks for reading and reviewing – like I said, things will start unfolding pretty soon now.**

 **Melirufus – CH5: I'm glad you liked it – plenty more to follow! Thanks for reading and reviewing!**

 **Trmack9 – CH5: Thank you! While trying to keep everybody on the edge a little, it's not my intention to constantly leave everyone in the dark – but some of the chapters just kind of work out that way! Thanks for reading and reviewing!**

 **Mellyb14 – CH5: I'm excited that you're picking up on the small detail – that tattoo is there for a very specific reason, which will be revealed later in the story of course. It makes me so happy! It's the little things that count ;) It would have been interesting if Spencer was the mayor's daughter, but that would have made this fic very, very short. I** ** _do_** **promise that she is in the story though! Keep on reading to find out what happened to Ashley tsk tsk… Thanks for reading and reviewing!**

 **Guest – CH4: Madison… well, I hope CH5 explained a bit – but do not fear, more detail will follow about all the characters that's loosely thrown in at the moment. There will be a Spashley ending, don't worry! Thank you for reading and reviewing!**

 **Guest – CH5: Wow, thank you for the compliment – I'm not too sure about being a great writer, but I do try! As the chapter revealed of course, Spencer wasn't the mayor's daughter… but she will make an appearance eventually! I worked hard on the chapter name selection – the lyrics are what inspired the details of each chapter – and I must say, for the number of chapters this fic is going to be, it's one hell of an interesting playlist! Awesome that you picked that up! Thank you for reading and reviewing!**

* * *

 **Kyla**

 **Fear**

"A new pose that we'll be trying today is called the Sunbird Pose," I took a deep breath and got on all fours as demonstration, "so, from the Tabletop Pose, we come into the Sunbird Pose on an inhalation by extending your right arm forward and left leg back, and reach from the central axis of your spine out to your fingertips and toes." I completed the move and while still in position, turned my head and stared at my class, looking for recognition on blank faces, praying that some of them got it.

 _Oh God, please let this not be a beginner's class_.

I made a mental note to check with my assistant to rearrange the class schedules. I couldn't go from advanced to beginners like this – it was too frustrating. And I couldn't teach yoga while being frustrated myself. None of the calming poses had been helping lately.

I got back on all fours, knowing I'd have to repeat this move a couple of times. Maybe it would actually help, just the movement, instead of posing, to get my mind off of things.

"Okay, I'm going to recap this, starting from the Tabletop Pose, so follow my movements, I'll repeat it a couple of times."

I allowed my mind to drift while mundanely repeating a yoga pose I could previously find release from. It's been eight years. Today, eight years ago, my father had passed away – killed instantly in a car accident. It was also the same night I had found out who he actually was, and that he had another family in LA.

Family… yeah, right.

The little bit that I knew, he barely saw his estranged ex-wife, and only saw his other daughter once or twice a year.

If I thought really hard about it, I seemed to have the better deal. I had a mother who cared. My half-sister, who I'd never even gotten the chance to meet, had a mother who didn't give a damn about her. Who didn't even care that her daughter had disappeared off the face of the earth on the night of her senior prom.

Imagine my devastation when I traveled all the way from Baltimore to LA to go and meet someone who I shared a father with, only to find out she was missing, and all her mother had done was file a missing person's report and never cared after that. I'd gathered as much information as I could to take back home with me, determined to find her myself.

I didn't know her, I didn't even know if we'd get along, but I felt a strong pull towards finding out who this person was. We were blood, after all.

In the meantime we'd received a huge inheritance payout from our late father's fame days, and while I'd carefully invested mine, my half-sister's were frozen, patiently awaiting her return. I'd paid some huge amounts to my lawyers to ensure her mother couldn't lay a finger on that money, and that it would be there for her when she finally made a return. All the while, I had spent the past eight years still trying to track her down.

All I had was a little bit of her history. Photo albums, small-talks with some of her old school friends, and a whole lot of gossip about the person she was. It wasn't all pretty, but I didn't care. To me, she was still blood. I wanted to find her, and I wanted her to be okay.

I would probably have unknowingly repeated the yoga pose indefinitely if it wasn't for Debbie, my assistant, who waltzed in and pointed discreetly to the clock. My eyes drifted upwards from her towards the mirror covered wall behind her, noticing we've already gone ten minutes over the allocated session time.

"Right, I'm sure this movement is imprinted in your memories now – remember to include it in your personal session time. I'll see you all next week?" I announced, finally standing up straight.

There was a slight buzz as the ladies in my class agreed and started gathering their belongings.

"You can be lucky this was your last class for the day," Debbie smirked as she walked over to me.

I grabbed a towel from the floor and wiped my face thoroughly before answering Debbie. "Thanks for coming to my rescue. I kindof spaced out a little."

"I noticed. But I also understand. I've cleared your schedule for the week, Ky, go to LA," Debbie insisted, reaching out to pat my arm. She was the only person who knew about my father, and my missing sister. Aside from being my assistant, Debbie had also been my closest friend for the past couple of years.

I considered my options. Since she had already gone through the trouble to get me cleared for a week – which I knew must have been a mission since the female population of New York _loved_ their yoga – I might as well book the plane ticket and go visit my father's grave, and maybe pop in to the police station where the case lay open for my missing sister. Maybe, just maybe, someone might have found something. But then there was also the shelter for homeless people where I volunteered. I had promised myself to free up more of my time to put in hours at the shelter. Lately it just hasn't been happening.

As if reading my mind, Debbie interrupted my thoughts. "Kyla, go take this time off. Sort things out. And then come back fresh and work out how you are going to split your time between classes, the shelter, and the acting. Only God knows how you cope with all of this."

I also loved Broadway. I'd been cast in a handful of performances, and was about to audition for yet another role.

I loved my life, and everything I did. It made me feel good.

But I really did want to find my sister. _Half_ -sister. I didn't know why it was so important to me – it just felt like she needed help – wherever she was. I could just feel that she was in trouble.

"Okay, I'll go. Meet me at Jack's tonight, though? I could use a stiff drink," I finally relented.

Debbie smiled and grabbed the keys to lock up the studio. "Deal. See you at seven."

* * *

It wasn't surprising that the bar was packed. It _was_ Friday, after all. There was something about the vibe of going out for drinks after a long week – I enjoyed the feeling, even though I wasn't one for heavy drinking. I enjoyed the occasional cocktail or whiskey on ice.

Jack's was a small bar, but it never made you feel claustrophobic. On the contrary, it had that warm vibe of belonging. I enjoyed the yellow, warm down lights that provided ample lighting; unobtrusive but not too dark to hide scary patrons in the dark. The mahogany bar counter was long and full of indentations – years of drink trading, some bar fights, and exchanging of coins. Debbie and I had carved our initials out into the wood – with Jack's permission, of course. The rest of the little room was equipped with all shapes of tables and bar stools – giving the place an eccentric feel. I loved this place. We'd been coming here for the past five years.

And so did Paige, a girl who'd been trying to get into our pants since day one. Despite both myself and Debbie being in hetero relationships on countless occasions, Paige could just not get the hint that we weren't into girls.

I sighed as she made her appearance, squeezing in between myself and Debbie. "Kyla, Deb, always good to see such gorgeous ladies on a Friday night."

I rolled my eyes and ignored her, flagging down the barman instead. "Jack, can I have another JD, please?" Turning to Debbie, I raised my brows to her empty glass.

Debbie shrugged. "I'll have a Vodka Martini, thanks Jack."

"Come on, don't tell me you're going to ignore me all night," Paige whined.

I was getting really annoyed. "Paige, we're not gay, okay? And we're not going to hook up with you, or kiss you, or sleep with you, or whatever it is that you want from us. Can you just leave us alone?"

Not even _that_ was enough to get the already drunk, skanky brunette to leave. "You know… I just noticed something… you have very beautiful hands, Kyla." She pried my left hand away from the empty glass and inspected it carefully.

I was close to slapping her in the face with these very beautiful hands.

"Can you just get the hint already?" Debbie complained, pushing Paige back a little.

Paige dropped my hand and let out an exaggerated sigh. "Fine, I can tell when I'm not welcome here. But I just wanted to tell you, Kyla, your hands _are_ really beautiful. They look the same as Andy's. Or wait… Ally. No, Ash – oh, Lee-Ann! That was her name! Do you have a sister?"

It stung, it really did. Debbie stopped me before I could throw a punch, and motioned for Jack to call a cab for Paige.

"I'm sorry, girls – I just don't know what to do with this one," Jack apologized as he came from behind the bar and pulled Paige away from us.

I just rested my elbows on the bar counter and dropped my head in my hands, feeling a pent up anger that I haven't felt for a long time. It was one thing to search for and worry about someone for eight years. But hearing some loose girl like Paige just talk like that, while I knew already that it couldn't ever be, struck a nerve. I guess it was time for me to go to LA…

* * *

I was grateful for the weather change. Unlike snowy New York, LA wasn't cold at all this time of the year. Though I preferred New York seasons, it just made things a little easier to pack light for a trip that I already resented.

"I'm sorry, ma'am, but there must have been some mistake in the booking process – all our vehicles have been reserved already. I can, however, organize for someone to drop you off downtown at one of our small dealerships, they'll be able to hook you up with a rental in no time."

I stared at the lady behind the counter, her make-up plastered on to a face I was sure couldn't have looked _that_ bad. I could understand that they had to look presentable, but this was a car rental agency, not auditions for a make-up advertisement.

"Do I have any other choice?" I finally muttered, my frustration having reached its threshold. I wasn't sure how much longer I could go before having a complete meltdown.

The assistant chewed ruthlessly on a piece of gum while she typed furiously on her keyboard, and a second later picked up a phone to call someone to drive me over to the other dealership. Everything about her just annoyed me.

 _Breathe, Kyla, just breathe_.

I wished Debbie could have joined me. She would have made this trip fun.

"Hi, ma'am? This is Henry, he will drive you downtown. Just take this paperwork with you and they'll help you with a car."

I mumbled a thanks, and after taking the papers from her and grabbing my luggage, I followed Henry to a little panelvan, loaded my stuff, and jumped into the passenger seat.

He followed suit and smiled as he turned the key in the ignition. "I'm sorry about the misunderstanding – it happens quite often. I think their booking system is outdated," he apologized timidly.

I returned the smile and sighed. "Thanks, uhm… Henry, isn't it?"

"Yes, that's me." He reached out for the radio and glanced at me before switching it on. "Would you mind? I just like listening to the news – keep updated and all that."

"No, not at all, go ahead." It was probably a good thing to find out what was going on in LA…

It took us almost an hour to get to the small dealership just off the highway. Not that I minded, Henry was good company and it was interesting to hear what had happened the day before – I was actually quite surprised that I haven't seen it on the news in New York already. Apparently the Mayor's daughter had been shot on her graduation day. It explained why there were so much police presence at the airport, and I was suddenly starting to get nervous as we approached the dealership, because there were also a couple of squad cars.

What was going on with this world? Could people not just live in peace and leave each other alone?

It turned out that one of the cars got stolen from the dealership the previous day – allegedly by the same guy who shot the Mayor's daughter. And then this same guy was shot minutes later just down the street – by whoever. That was what I could make out from the ruckus inside.

All I wanted was to get my rental car and get out of here. LA could keep their violence and weird people. Not that New York was any better – a well-known forensic auditor was gunned down in a park, in front of his wife and child, just a week ago.

It really made me feel sick to my stomach. Incidents like these just kept reducing the tiny bit of hope I had left that my sister could still be alive.

"Here you go, ma'am. Apologies for the delay and that you had to come all the way out here."

At least this assistant was better dressed, and well-behaved. I smiled gratefully and took the keys, thankful to finally be able to head to my hotel for a much needed nap.

It was going to be one difficult week…

* * *

 **Fear – One Republic**


	7. Breathing Underwater

**A/N:** ** _"Begin at the beginning," the King said, very gravely, "and go on till you come to the end: then stop."_** **― Lewis Carroll, Alice in Wonderland**

 **Thank you for reading and reviewing! The story is about to… begin ;)**

* * *

 **Ashley**

 **Breathing Underwater**

Have you ever gone to take a swim at the beach, and got sucked in underneath by a crushing wave, tumbling you around to the bottom of the ocean? Have you ever opened your eyes underwater, regardless of salt and sand stinging your eyes, just in hope that you could see which way is up? Have you ever seen light underwater? And then darkness? And then light again, as your body begged for oxygen, but you just couldn't dare open your mouth? Have you ever felt that overbearing panic that weighed down so heavily on your chest, but you tried to stay calm no matter how close to that pitch darkness you came?

I wasn't sure if my eyes were open; there were the occasional bursts of bright white light, but it never lasted long. My body wasn't tumbling, but I was fighting something that was keeping me down. Or trying to. I could feel a stinging pain in my eyes, and a relentless searing pain shoot through my skull, worsening as I gasped desperately for air to fill my lungs.

As my chest constricted to take a much needed deep breath, more pain engulfed my body. My heart was pounding dangerously against my chest, subsequently increasing blood pressure. Already sore muscles tensed up incredulously, energized by adrenaline and glucose. My digestion and immune systems shut down, allowing more energy for emergency functions.

I was in fight or flight mode.

Except I couldn't do either.

So I panicked, until darkness came and took me, dragging and keeping me at the bottom of the ocean floor.

* * *

I had no idea how much time had passed, where I was, or even if I was alive. I was only aware of two things; a dull, throbbing pain in my head, and a constant beep trying to keep up with the beat of my heart.

Maybe that was a good sign. A beating heart meant I was alive, didn't it?

As I allowed myself to emerge from an unknown darkness, more things attacked my senses. Cool air was forced into my mouth. It had a distinct taste to it – not the same as normal oxygen you breathed in. And a clear, stern, female voice, at first making no sense, until I finally figured out she was calling my name. Urging me to keep on breathing.

So I did just that.

I wanted to open my eyes, but it proved to be too painful, so I concentrated on the voice and allowed my lungs to expand with air.

It was a much better feeling than what I'd experienced before – I didn't even know what that was. Was I drowning? Did someone come to my rescue? And how did I land up underwater to start with?

"Easy, Miss Davies, just breathe in slowly," the voice soothed.

I was a bit suspicious. How did they know my name? And where was I?

I finally dared to squint through one eyelid, only to be met by total darkness.

Panic set in. Did the Agency find me? Was this it for me – were they going to torture me to death now? I was already in a lot of pain – was I already halfway to my grave?

There was a steady increase of the beeping next to me.

"Miss Davies, I'm going to need you to calm down, just take deep, steady breaths," I heard the female voice again.

There was movement around me, and suddenly a slight pressure I haven't noticed before were lifted from my eyes.

It took a moment to adjust to the sudden dim lights and my surroundings. I was in a small room with an undertone of bleach scent, all-cream walls and a very boring grey floor. There were no decorations other than a vase with flowers on the little nightstand next to my bed. Bed?

It was a highly sophisticated, comfortable, slightly inclined bed; crisp green sheets covering my body up to my chest. An intravenous drip stand and various monitors surrounded this nice bed, taking away the comfort – instead plunging me in more panic.

I was utterly confused. How did I land up in… _a hospital ward?_

The female voice belonged to a very friendly-looking African-American lady in a white overcoat. She smiled down at me, her brown eyes reflecting concern and compassion.

"I'm going to shine a light into your eyes, can you follow the light for me, please?"

Her question was more a quick warning – she didn't wait for me to answer. Her gloved fingers were on my eyelids in seconds, holding it open with one hand while the other flashed an excruciatingly bright white light into my right eye. I tried to blink but to no avail. So I followed the light, cringing as she repeated her actions with my left eye.

"Good, your pupils are back to normal, your cognitive responses are fair. I'm going to remove the oxygen mask to ask you a couple of questions, okay?"

I was more than ready for that. I had a couple of questions of my own.

I almost missed the crisp oxygen, replaced with the stuffy warm air of the room. My throat was on fire the moment I took a deep breath. A sharp stinging pain ran through my chest and I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to stop the onset of unexpected tears.

"Miss Davies, I'm Doctor Lewis. Do you know why you are here?"

It took a while before any form of memory came back to me. I remembered a car chase in Los Angeles, I remembered Aiden, and what I had to do to him, I remembered driving all the way up to San Francisco. I was in a hotel room, then in the street. Things were fuzzy after that. I shook my head solemnly, hoping this young doctor would be able to clear the confusion for me.

"You were run over by a drunk driver. You suffered quite extensive injuries, which we will go through with you thoroughly when Doctors Carlin join us. In the meantime, is there anyone we can contact? Parents, family, friends, perhaps?"

Knocked over by a drunk driver? I didn't remember this. Where was I when that happened? And how long have I been out for?

"Miss Davies?"

My eyes met Doctor Lewis', and I felt a longing to have someone here who cared for me. But I didn't know anyone. I didn't even know who I was.

"No, there's no-one," I croaked out. "How long – "

"Ah, miss Davies! So good to see you're awake!"

I turned my head slightly towards the door, noticing for the first time that there was quite a bustle outside the small room I was in. A nurse's station was close by, and despite being fairly quiet, there was a lot of scuffling around.

A tall man, probably in his early fifties, stood in the doorway, a smile on his tired face. His black hair sported streaks of grey on the sides, and lines contoured his face. He stepped inside, two strides landing him right beside my bed.

"I'm Doctor Carlin, your Physiatrist." He reached out and gave my right arm a slight squeeze.

Not that the comfort he tried to give helped any. Physiatrist? My eyes finally fell across my body, and I tried to take in the state that I was in. My legs seemed fine, I couldn't see my toes but I could move them, and it didn't feel as heavy as my left arm did, which was wrapped neatly in cast. My right arm was fine but an IV needle was stuck into the crooked of my elbow, and a strange contraption was on my index finger, leading a thin wire to one of the monitors beside me. I struggled to breathe due to pain in my chest, and wondered what exactly what was going on there. That was all I could see, but I knew there was more damage. My face hurt even with the slightest movement, and my head had a dull aching pain that just would go away.

"Doctor Lewis, have you had a chance yet to explain to Miss Davies what's going on?" Doctor Carlin asked. He seemed to have some authority over her.

Doctor Lewis smiled at him and shook her head. "Just waiting for you and Doctor Carlin, sir."

This was just too confusing.

"Sorry I'm late, my pager's malfunctioning and – oh, you're awake!" A tall, blonde woman came rushing into the room, holding a tiny device, probably her pager, up in the air. She wore a white overcoat as well, the same as the other two doctors with me. Her striking blue eyes caught me off guard as she smiled warmly at me.

"Miss Davies," Doctor Lewis addressed me. I stared at her, and allowed myself to throw a quick glance at the other two doctors. "This is Doctor Carlin, she is your Physician and has also performed minor surgery. I'm under the care of Doctor Carlin, our resident Physiatrist. Between the three of us, we will update you with everything your body has gone through and assist with a proper care plan towards recovery. You're in high care in San Francisco Med, and we will do everything we can to make your stay here as comfortable as possible."

They were scaring me.

"Miss Davies… Ashley," the female Doctor Carlin said, reading from a file she picked up from the foot point of my bed, "can I call you Ashley?"

I just nodded.

Doctor Carlin looked at the file and then back at me. "We'll start with the less serious injuries. Aside from bruising after impact, your left wrist is fractured, probably as you tried to stop your fall. The car that hit you knocked you down – the impact of the car was on your chest, thus resulting in two fractured ribs. You were very lucky to not have any internal organ damage."

"However," the male Doctor Carlin looked at me. "When you head the ground, your head hit first and quite hard. The impact was severe, causing bleeding in the skull cavity, which we had to surgically drain. There is still some swelling but your recovery has been outstanding so far. In a couple of weeks you should be as good as new."

"While I will tend to your immediate healthcare requirements, Doctor Carlin and Doctor Lewis will be involved in your rehabilitation. We're going to keep you here for a couple of weeks until you're back on your feet again. Do you have any questions so far?"

I had millions. But I was still in too much shock, trying to understand what had happened, to think of any coherent thing to say.

"We're going to let you digest the news. Try to get some more rest, things will feel a bit more clear in the morning," the male Doctor Carlin said, patting my right shoulder. I wondered for a brief moment if the two Carlin doctors were married.

"If you need anything, there's a nurses' button right there," Doctor Lewis informed me, pointing to a panel on the side of my bed. "If you have any more questions they can page me and we can assist you, okay?"

I watched the trio make their way out of my room, and let out a deep breath, emotions flooding my senses as I tried to figure out where things had gone _so_ wrong in my life for me to end up here.

* * *

It had taken a couple of days for me to get used to my surroundings and the situation I was in. Though frustrating because I couldn't get up and leave, I had grown used to the friendly faces around me. I knew it was their job to have good bedside manners and be patient and kind to their patients, but it felt like Kat, my nurse, and Doctor Lewis, and even the two doctor Carlins, had become a great pillar of emotional support. I would never have pictured myself the type of person who would ever need that kind of support, but given my short history, it was difficult to pile on everything I've done – all the bad things – and be here and receive love and care from total strangers.

So yeah, it made me emotional.

It was tiring to be in my own head, my own guilt-ridden thoughts, day in and day out. So I appreciated any form of distraction, whether it was just Kat coming to take my vitals, or Doctor Lewis to wheel me off to a section in the hospital where I had to start doing physical rehabilitation.

Doctor Arthur Carlin was the best, however. He had this thing about him – it felt like you could talk to him about anything under the sun. I've found myself numerous times on the brink of opening up to him. But I was terrified of what his reaction would be. I'd probably find myself shipped off to jail minutes later.

It felt strange not wanting to disappoint someone. Everything I could remember about myself was hard. I used to be selfish, emotionless. A cold-blooded killer. But the more time I spent with the Carlin doctors, the more I just wanted to be normal. Accepted.

I wondered if this was the second chance at life Aiden had talked about…

* * *

 **Breathing Underwater – Metric**


	8. Hero of the Day

**A/N:** ** _After_** **this chapter the first part of the plot line will reveal itself to those who are still reading and curious… But skipping this chapter won't help! Thanks to all the patient readers – I appreciate the reviews and reading even though nothing makes sense! But let me not waste too much time, need to get the next chapter up!**

 **Trmack9 – CH6 : Thank you so much for the compliment! Yeah, this fic will have a little more Kyla, much like the character she is in SON (and very unlike her badass character in my first fic!) – I just really liked her character and she deserves more credit! So there will be some more focus on her! Thank you so much for reading and reviewing!**

 **Guest – CH6 : Thank you, I enjoyed writing the Kyla-chapter! There will be more of her later on. Spencer… she will be in the fic, it's not Spashley without her! Thank you so much for reading reviewing!**

 **Southtrash – CH6 : I know there is a huge overload of information and a lot of readers are struggling to put it all together – but once it is all together, when you read everything from the start again it would be like reading a different story, and kindof take away the mystery. I'm sorry for updating bit by bit but it's taking a lot to make sure I don't ruin the plot. Thank you so much for reading reviewing!**

 **SonFan – CH6 : Thank you! Like in the movies, Kyla will probably run into Ashley, right at the end after we've screamed our lungs out and jumped up and down and perhaps pulled out some hair to make them both see they keep missing each other ;) Or maybe she might just come to Ashley's rescue… we'll never know ;) Thank you so much for reading reviewing!**

 **Amy-rb9207 – CH6 : Thank you! I know it's confusing, but I do promise it's just a couple more chapters and the mystery will be gone! I might even reveal what this was based on. But it's far from over! Thank you so much for reading reviewing!**

 **Guest – CH7 : I apologize for the story not making sense, and I know I keep apologizing. But all I can say/ask is to be patient. Treat it the same as a book – the only difference here is that you can't turn the page to the next chapter until I've updated – which I'm working hard on to not fall behind. Thank you so much for reading reviewing!**

 **GirlsOnly – CH7: I know it's not making sense, but thank you for liking it regardless! And thank you for the compliment on my style – I do try! Answers will come to all the questions very soon! Thank you so much for reading reviewing!**

* * *

 **Aiden**

 **Hero of the day**

I listened closely, comforted by the familiar sound of her breathing. I enjoyed working with her, I really did. But I wished we'd met under different circumstances. Maybe even so, things would still never work out between us. I'd always be that guy, the best friend, and she would always be that girl, the one that got away. And despite how hot I thought it was, picturing my object of affection with another girl didn't sit well.

Why couldn't she like me for me?

I could be gentle with her, I could be anything she wanted me to be for her. I knew damn well that she trusted me and appreciated me as a friend. So I was already more than any of these skanks she slept with.

I sighed and squeezed my eyes shut for a second, trying to get my focus back on the job. With a quick glance at the clock, I realized it was almost time.

I knew this one was difficult for her. She had started showing signs of remembering. Or at least, getting some of her personality back. I was wary the first time I had noticed. Torn between the Agency and my infatuation with her, I wasn't sure what to do. If she started regaining her memory and started realizing what she was doing, we could all be in danger. But on the other hand, something about the person she really was grabbed me. I didn't know it could be any more possible, but I just fell more in love with her, with the person she really was.

 _Focus, Dennison_.

 _"Stand by, Davies,"_ I spoke firmly into the mouthpiece, indicating that she had to get ready to take her shot. Through the feed off her scope I watched as she locked on to Sasha Miller. Her breathing became erratic; tell-signs of her conscience. She was nervous.

I wasn't used to this side of Ashley, and frankly, it scared me a little. Had I more of a backbone, I could have taken charge, pushed through with my plan to blackmail her emotionally, but instead I notified the Agency about Ashley's change in behavior.

I felt like a traitor. No, I _was_ one. Who tells on the person they are in love with?

I should've done things differently. The scare with Madison definitely didn't work.

 _"Agent Dennison, advise your field agent to take the shot."_ Agent Mendez. I didn't like her, she was an arrogant, short-fused team leader who'd been giving me instructions for the past three years. She didn't like Ashley, for some reason, so she made _my_ life a living nightmare.

 _"Copy that, Agent Mendez."_ If it wasn't such a secure line I would've used her first name in the hope someone would listen in and go after her.

I switched channels and glanced at the monitor again, displaying the feed of what Ashley could see. It was somewhat unnerving, the way Sasha Miller was staring right at Ashley. Had my girl been compromised?

I held my breath , counting to five, and sighed in relief as Sasha Miller continued with some speech.

 _"Take your shot, Davies,"_ I finally managed through the mouthpiece, distraught over the way things felt like it was going wrong today. Maybe it was nerves. I knew Ashley was soon going to be in danger. Maybe by coming to her rescue she'd look at me differently. Or look _at_ me, to begin with. I wasn't a bad-looking guy, after all. I worked out every day, and ensured that I stayed fit despite not being able to go back being a field agent. I was tall, my black hair and green eyes attracting girls wherever I went. All the girls except the one I wanted…

The chaos that ensued after Ashley's shot was tremendous. A fire alarm went off, kids ran out into the parking lot, everybody was just going crazy.

We were parked just outside the lot, into a little side street, completely blocked off by school buildings. It was a little bit further to run, but the SUV was out of sight, and we could take off without being suspicious.

Ashley jumped in, startling me for a second. She was out of breath as she tossed her bag into the back and buckled herself in.

"You okay?" I asked carefully, trying to stay calm. It would help _her_ calm down.

"I'll tell you when we make it out of here," she breathed out, pulling out quickly.

Did something go wrong?

Carmen Mendez started talking in my ear, and it took a second to realize what she was saying. It sounded like we had been compromised somehow. "I'm getting reports that they're on us. Get onto the highway, I'll feed you more directions as soon as they give us an exit plan," I explained to Ashley, wondering what had happened between the time she had taken her shot until she got to the car. Carmen was still rambling in my ear and I heard her say something about Ashley being at fault. Of course it was.

"Everything went fine on my side – I got out without anyone noticing," Ashley defended herself before I could even say anything. I wondered if she said that out of guilt. I'd never know.

I kept listening to Carmen while trying to keep my attention on the road ahead of us, noticing that our backup agents had been delayed. Something seemed off about it, but I was going to use it to my advantage.

"What is it?" Ashley asked, keeping her eyes on me long enough to try and read my expression.

I didn't want to scare her – she already seemed jittery. If I could just keep her to stay focused, we could still make it out.

Right now I just needed her to not think for herself. She needed to be at my mercy. "We've been compromised. It could have been Madison."

Her eyes went wide. "I _told_ you, I took care of her!"

She was going to be very upset, but I was determined to be her knight in shining armor after this. She'd have no choice but to love me the way I loved her. "I think it was too late, Ash. I'm sorry, but I had to inform the Agency."

She slammed on the brakes, hard. "Are you fucking serious right now?"

I refused to look at her, trying to keep calm. All I had to do was convince her that I'd done it for her own good. I felt bad about Madison, I really did, but I couldn't let her be Ashley's escape anymore. Ashley needed someone better, someone like me.

I heard sirens and glanced back in the rearview mirror. Our backup, which wasn't backup anymore, had caught up with us. And behind them, just within sight, was an army of police cars. "Ashley, keep driving!"

Ashley stepped on the accelerator, pulling away like a professional racer. She made me proud the way she expertly swerved through the traffic on the highway, even while going completely hysterical. In a sick kind of way, I actually enjoyed it.

"You _told_ them? How _could_ you, Aiden? They're going to kill me, aren't they?"

"Ashley, this entire job was put on risk because of Madison. If it wasn't as high profile I would never have done that. I'm your friend – I'm on your side, you _have_ to believe me." I gripped the grab-handle above my window, my body slightly flailing as Ashley glided across lanes.

My plan was working. She was upset, but she was going to listen. She had no other choice. I had planned our escape weeks in advance. Months even. I just never knew our chance to do so would come so soon. I'd gone through the trouble to get us both several fake ID's, I'd started withdrawing money on a weekly basis, saving up cash to get us out of the US, all the way to Canada and then to Europe in a couple of weeks. There I had offshore accounts and could access my fortunes without any fear of being tracked down. I'd get Ashley the help she needed to regain some of her memory, and she'd fall in love with me, and we'd live happily ever after.

"Are they chasing me or following us?" She sounded almost defeated.

I dropped my gaze, laying it on thick. "Chasing."

"Fuck, Aiden!"

It took a lot out of me to not say anything about my plans. I just wanted to get out of here an make her happy.

"Look." Time for gaining her trust. I pulled the mouthpiece from my wrist and tossed it to the back, and did the same with my earpiece. "I'm really sorry, Ashley. I know I betrayed you. I know things have been difficult for you lately – I've noticed since you came back from New York. I was going to talk to you after this to see if I could help you, but then Madison – "

"Fuck Madison, okay? You could have told me, Aiden! You could have warned me, this morning! It would have been enough time for me to think of something!"

If I had told her this morning, she'd be gone by now. Without me.

"Ashley, you asked questions the other day which led me to believe that you already knew what you were going to do. Or at least planned – if not today, then another day. Tell me you weren't thinking about trying to get out of shooting."

Her silence answered my suspicions. Not that it mattered – I was glad that she was having second thoughts. "Admit it, Ash – "

"Don't fucking call me that!"

Ouch.

Time for the rescue. "I can get you out of this, Ashley, but you'll have to trust me."

She was silent, still maneuvering skillfully through the traffic, trying to gain more distance between ourselves and the Agency. I wasn't worried about the cops at all – Ashley had more advanced driving skills she wasn't yet aware of. It was only a matter of time.

"Trust _you_? Are you _high_?" she finally laughed out. I could faintly make out the high-pitched warning that panic was setting in. She was going to take the bait. I watched her carefully, and could see she was trying to find an exit. And escape.

I was promoted to senior analyst for the Agency for a reason. "Take the next off-ramp. Only change lanes when I tell you to." At the back of my mind I planned _our_ escape strategy. "Ignore the cops – they won't get to us. Our concern is the Agency only. Do you trust me?"

I knew she had no other choice but to trust me. But she was taking way too long to respond. I could understand that – she wasn't used to situations like these. Up until now her jobs had been easy. She was still another year away from starting the skilled jobs where she really had to think for herself. The Agency really knew how to steal people away from their prior existence and rebuild them into something they'd never imagine they could become in their wildest dreams.

She finally nodded. _Finally_.

And just in time; the next off-ramp was meters away and quite a tricky one. I checked the rearview mirror again, ensuring there would be no chance for the Agency or the police to follow us, and then, suddenly, pushed the steering wheel up with such a force that Ashley nearly lost control.

"Hold on! And keep turning to make the exit!"

She followed my instructions, and with some harrowing moments of the SUV scraping against the cement walls of the highway, we jumped the median onto the off-ramp and exited, the sloped ramp hiding us from view as we entered downtown LA.

"Don't slow down – keep going straight," I instructed calmly.

I could see Ashley was shaken. "Holy crap – we ditched them!" I was almost sure there was a grin on her beautiful face.

"Don't get too excited – there's another off-ramp not too far ahead. We'll need to find another car – all the SUV's are fitted with tracking devices."

"Where are we going to find a – "

"There. Stop, right there." I pointed ahead of us towards a small car dealership. I'd spotted the a red '69 Dodge Charger the moment I saw the dealership. It was a perfect getaway car. Everything was falling in place so beautifully. I could already see us drive out into the sunset with this monster of a muscle car. It was exactly what Ashley needed. No girl could ever do this for her.

"Stop here – don't switch off. I'm going to go get a car, and then you follow me down the street, okay?"

It only took me a minute to jimmy the lock, and hot-wire the car after I had jumped out. The engine roared to life, and I could only laugh as the manager came running out the small building. There was no way he could stop me. And I knew it was highly unlikely that there was a tracking system fitted to this beast. I sped down the street, hoping Ashley would keep up. I just needed to get us off this main road so we could ditch the SUV where it wasn't that obvious. I had already taken the bags with me, all Ashley had to do was jump in.

But my heart sank as soon as I gazed ahead. The two backup Agency vehicles were headed straight towards us. Towards Ashley. They had no idea that I was in the Dodge.

I had to think fast. They were going to kill us. No doubt they were going to open fire as soon as they reached the SUV. I had to get my girl out of there. If anything, I had to get Ashley to safety at all cost.

It wasn't about me anymore now. I just wanted her to be safe.

I swerved into a side street and slammed on the brakes, jumping out with the car still idling, and ran back towards the SUV. "Ashley, get in the ca – " She was out even before I could finish my sentence. But she'd forgotten one thing. "Take your gun! Don't leave without it!"

I saw her disappear back into the SUV, and reappear seconds later, flinging the bag onto her shoulder. As she slammed the driver door shut, I finally stopped next to her, reaching for the handle. I knew I was crazy. But I was doing it for her.

"What the fuck are you doing?" she screamed, pulling my hand away.

I looked at her, taking in her beauty. She was terrified, I could see it in her eyes. Still, it didn't take her beauty away. "Ash, this is it. This is your chance to get out of this. I'm done, letting you go is the least I can do for you."

"What? Aiden what are you talking about?" Her eyes teared up.

"You need to go – take the car and get as far away as you can. Get rid of the bag but don't ever lose your gun. Don't go back home, don't use any of your cards, or even your social security number. I left you some things in the car. Now, go! Before they see you!" I steered her away from me.

She pulled away from my hands and just stared into my eyes, tears running down her cheeks. Why couldn't she have cried for me earlier? "Come with me – we both have a chance to get away," she begged.

"Ash," I reached out to squeeze her shoulder. It was hard to do this, hard to give her up. I really thought that we would both make it. "If we both leave, they will follow that car. We won't stand a chance. I don't have much time left, Ash, but _you_ do. Get away from it all and start over."

"I can't leave you here – " she cried desperately. I felt touched that she at least cared.

"Listen to me, you need to leave _now_ ," I had to be strong. Both my hands were on her shoulders now. I wished I could kiss her goodbye. "When you get to your car, I want you to get in and take out your gun. Once they pass you, Ash, take a shot at me."

Her face paled. "What? Aiden, no!"

"Ashley! Do it, now! Or we will both die!" I pushed her away once more and opened the door, jumping in. But Ashley was still frozen on the spot, not moving a limb. "Ashley! If you don't do it, they will torture me! And if they catch you, they're going to kill us both. Get out of here now!"

The message finally seemed to get through to her. I watched with a heavy heart as she sprinted towards the Dodge and jumped in. Seconds later the other Agents sped past her unknowingly. I tried to still my racing heart; closing my eyes, silencing everything around me. I hoped that she would get away in time, and that she would make it out alive. She didn't deserve this. She never wanted this. The Agency had made a mistake by recruiting Ashley – no matter how good she was.

It just wasn't her.

I wished there was more time. I really wanted to help her get her memory back; she was a beautiful person. Strong, feisty, but beautiful.

I heard wheels screeching, brakes binding. Doors opening and slamming shut. It was time.

What was taking Ashley so long?

For the briefest moment I opened my eyes, my heart gripped with fear as I stared at Carmen Mendez and Jake Kessler outside the SUV, their guns pointed towards me. They couldn't see me – the windows were tinted. But they didn't have to. By the time they realized Ashley wasn't here, I hoped she'd be gone.

Why hasn't she pulled the trigger yet?

I didn't want to look in that direction, just in case it would give away her location, but I couldn't help myself.

Our eyes met, despite the distance, despite all the obstacles between us.

It was all I needed.

I felt it moments after it hit already. I closed my eyes, thankful to have met someone like Ashley Davies. It made the last couple of years at the agency bearable.

My only hope for her was to make it out of all of this. Alive.

* * *

 **Hero of the day - Metallica**


	9. Fix You

**Ashley**

 **Fix You**

I jolted upright in my bed, my skin clammy, breathing erratically short, and a shooting pain going through my head. I scanned the room with frightened eyes, but was finally relieved to find myself still stuck in San Francisco Med. Everything seemed normal.

Except for the ECG monitor making a noise next to me, and of course, a very fragile state of mind.

I smiled apologetically as Kat came rushing in, probably alerted by my racing heart.

"It was just a nightmare, I'm so sorry," I breathed out with a blush, feeling stupid all of the sudden.

Kat had a look at the ECG monitor, pulled the annoying oxygen mask over my mouth, took my wrist in between her fingers, and held on for a second. It took about two minutes for everything to return to normal.

When she was finally satisfied that my vitals were stable, according to her, she allowed me to push away the mask and explain. "It was just – "

"The second one today. Every night this week, Ashley. I'm talking to Doctor Carlin tomorrow."

"It's just nightmares, Kat," I sighed, wishing it would go away. Tonight was the first time I actually knew what I was dreaming. I needed Kat to leave so I could try and analyze it.

"You suffered a serious head injury, Ashley. You're on a lot of medication, and your brain is healing. It needs to be addressed, because less sleep, or all this interrupted sleep, is going to hinder your recovery process. Not only that, this has been a huge emotional blow – we need to deal with it."

Well, it looked like she wasn't going to drop this.

I relaxed my shoulders and leaned back against my pillows. "Fine, I'll talk to Doctor Carlin tomorrow."

"Speak to Arthur. Paula can help you medicinally, but Arthur is a great listener. He's got a psychology degree – I'm sure if you just talk to him it will make you feel better," Kat suggested sweetly.

It explained my previous opinions about Arthur Carlin. He really _was_ an easy person to talk to.

"Are you going to be okay? Should I leave some lights on?"

I shook my head. It was already too light – they never closed the blinds so the dim glow from the passage and nurse station lit up my room annoyingly. And then there were all the monitors – it was all working on my nerves. I couldn't wait to be unhooked and free to walk around a bit.

I waited until Kat stepped out and pulled the sliding door until it was almost closed, just to block off some noise. I wished she'd close the blinds too, but being in high care, it was not allowed.

I finally let out a long breath, my head spinning as I recalled the dream I had. It had felt so real. As if I saw his last day, his last moments, from his point of view – literally.

I squeezed my own eyes shut, recalling Aiden's last thoughts, the last thing he saw.

It was me, pulling a trigger on him.

 _Fuck_.

The sudden onset of nausea was unexpected, and I dreaded having to push the button on my bed panel to call a nurse. Kat wasn't going to let this go now.

I pushed myself as far off the side of the bed as I could and heaved uncontrollably. Was it possible that what I dreamed, was what Aiden was going through? That didn't bother me as much as me pulling that trigger. I could see that bullet – I _felt_ it – as it hit his forehead. It was excruciating.

More heaving.

"Oh, no, Ashley!" Kat stormed into the room but stopped dead in her tracks to avoid slipping.

It was gross, and I was so embarrassed. But I couldn't rid of the agonizing pain on my forehead.

I wretched even more.

 _What the hell?_

"I need some help in here! Someone page Doctor Paula Carlin!" I heard Kat yelling out the door. She finally came closer to me, pushing my hair back gently, and rubbing soothing circles into my back.

It finally subsided after a couple of minutes, and I was able to sit back on the bed again.

"What happened?" Kat asked, concerned. She wiped my face and ordered someone to clean up the floor. I was grateful that the bed and sheets were untouched.

"I don't know," I whispered, trembling slightly. What the hell was going on with me?

"If you don't tell Paula about the nightmares, I will."

* * *

I could handle the cold sweats and was able to suppress the nausea after two days. It still wasn't easy to recall that dream, but the side-effects it gave me made it even more important for me to try and figure things out.

Thankfully, Doctor Carlin had prescribed some other medication – her reasoning was that it was part of the healing process but also medication not corresponding with my system anymore. Doctor Arthur Carlin insisted on a formal appointment – he would come and see me in a couple of hours to do a full psychological assessment.

I just wanted to get out of here already.

"You know, it's not going to go away anytime soon."

My heart stopped. Literally. I heard the ECG flat-lining, but a few seconds later, it picked up again, as if nothing had happened.

I could only stare.

In the corner by the bay window, sitting comfortably in a visitors' chair, was Aiden Dennison.

This couldn't be possible.

Could it?

I saw him die! I killed him!

"Yes, I did die. And you did kill me," he confirmed to my inner monologue, finally standing up to move closer to me.

I panicked. Was I dreaming? Again?

"Ash…" He gave a warm smile, taking his time to look me up and down.

I did the same. He was still in his suit – the same suit he wore when he got killed and I escaped. His clothes were impeccably clean. More than I remember. It wasn't even wrinkled.

His eyes were greener than before, and his hair was shiny, wavy, perfectly styled. His face was cleanly shaved, and rid of all the scars I'd previously noticed. Except for one. A small, star-shaped mark was on his forehead, much like a bullet-wound. A bullet belonging to an A7 sniper rifle…

"How are you feeling? I heard what happened."

Was he for real?

Aiden chuckled at my silence. "I know your vocal chords are still working – you were quite pissed off at that nurse who wouldn't leave the other night when you were heaving all over the place."

"You were _here_?"

Of all the things I could ask or say, that was what came out of my mouth?

"Yeah… didn't you see me?"

I could honestly not remember. I was too busy trying to keep my organs from spilling out my throat after that terrible, too-real-to-describe nightmare. It suddenly felt like I was still in it.

"Aiden, what are you doing here?" I finally asked, looking for signs of distress on his face. Maybe the Agency had found me. Maybe he was here to take me to them, or bring them to me.

"I've got a job for you, when you get out of here," he propositioned, pulling the visitors chair closer. All his movements were suddenly so smooth, as if he never had his car accident, or did anything wrong in his life. I couldn't quite wrap my head around this feeling that things felt somewhat surreal.

"I shot you. How are you here? Are you still working for the Agency? Do they know I'm here?"

Aiden just chuckled again at all my questions. It was infuriating, to say the least. "You're working yourself up for nothing. _Relax_ , they think you're dead."

"How?"

"Let's not talk about that now. Are you willing to take on a job when you get out of here?"

My heart sank. I thought I was going to start a new life. A normal life. I couldn't do this anymore.

As if reading my mind, Aiden gave me a look that I would hate forever. It was almost a pathetic form of a pout. "You owe me, Ash."

I _owed_ him? He ratted me out! We would never have been in that situation to start with if he had just kept his mouth shut! I took a breath and was about to tell him this, but he got up unexpectedly.

"I'll be back in a second – I don't suppose you know where visitors' bathrooms are?" He didn't even wait for me to answer before he disappeared out of the room.

"Ah, you're awake! How are you feeling?" Kat asked, striding in mere seconds later. She waltzed over to the ECG monitor, checked some readings, checked readings on all the other monitors, then recorded information into the file that was stored at the foot point of my bed.

When I didn't answer, Kat followed my gaze to the visitor's chair and looked up at me questioningly, a small smile playing at the corners of her mouth. "You had a visitor?"

"Yeah, uh, old friend from LA." I didn't know what else to say. This just felt too weird. Aiden being here felt weird. I wasn't sure if I should be worried. I hadn't really had time to analyze the dream properly, but the bits that I remembered was already startling. I'd learnt that he had feelings for me – inappropriate feelings. It made me feel uneasy.

I wished I could talk to someone about this. I just wished I could tell someone everything I knew and let them help me figure it all out.

"That's good, I'm glad for you, Ashley. Support is so important during the recovery process. Speaking of, you know Doctor Carlin will be here in a couple of minutes – are you ready?"

Maybe I could disclose some of the dream to Arthur. Maybe he'd have some advice…

* * *

"So, tell me a little about yourself, Ashley. What can you remember prior to the accident? Were you perhaps in a stressful environment?"

Stressful was an understatement. I wondered how Arthur Carlin would react if I told him what I had done a couple of hours before I got mowed down. "I uh, I guess you could say something like that, yeah."

Vague, I know. But what was I supposed to say?

"Work issues? Trouble at home, perhaps?" Doctor Carlin persisted. He wasn't going to give up until he had something to work with.

I looked at him uncomfortably.

He smiled softly, his bright blue eyes urging me to open up. How I wish I could. "Okay, let's try this from another angle. Tell me about the nightmare."

Thinking about it immediately brought back the nausea. At least now I could hold it in. How was I going to tell this doctor that I had a nightmare about shooting a guy, only to feel like I was the guy in the dream? And how was I going to tell him that I dreamed this guy had unrequited feelings for me, and wanted to help me escape to who-knows-where, running from the Agency that we both worked for and we were forced to kill for a living because that was all we knew we were and how to do well?

Come to think of it, it sounded _so_ far-fetched, I _did_ just tell Arthur all that. He wouldn't believe it, write it off as some underlying thing that was bugging me, and we'd move on. Right?

Wrong.

"So, this Aiden-fellow, that you dreamed you shot, and were; did you perhaps know him? I mean, in reality, not in the dream," Doctor Carlin prompted.

I had to be very careful now. What was I prepared to disclose? "No, not at all," I lied. Technically, it wasn't a lie. I _didn't_ know Aiden. I _didn't_ know this guy who was obsessing over me and was secretly hoping that I'd turn straight after he was my knight in shining armor. I _didn't_ know this guy who knew a lot more about me but didn't tell me anything, despite my desperation to find out who I was and how I landed up with the Agency. I didn't know this guy at all. All I knew is he was somehow back, and now emotionally blackmailing me to possibly do something I was trying to get away from in the first place.

"Could you recognize anybody else in your dream?"

There was no way I was going to tell Arthur about Sasha Miller or that job. I'd only for a brief couple of seconds seen Carmen Mendez and Jake Kessler, and I had no idea who they were – I've never met them. I only recognized Carmen from things Aiden had told me. Simply put, she was his boss. "No, I didn't know anybody."

"Is this the first time you've had this dream?"

I realized Doctor Carlin was watching me closely. What did I answer to that? I lived it and then dreamed about it?

"Yeah… I mean, the other nightmares – I don't know what it was about, by the time I woke up everything was blank. So it's the first time that I know of." That was all I could give him, truthfully.

"Okay…" Doctor Carlin closed the file on his lap that he'd been scribbling in, and got up from his chair. "I think we've got enough for now; you might find by just having talked about this, no matter how insignificant it might seem, that you'll sleep better tonight. I can assure you the nausea and your first reactions were probably a combination of medication and the shock of the dream."

I sighed and nodded, grateful that this was over. If they were happy with a medical reason, I was happy. Until I could at least figure out exactly what Aiden was doing here and how he had survived that headshot. I was definitely going to confront him about his undying love towards me!

"Just, one last thing, Ashley. You know you can talk to me about anything, right? So when we do this again next week, I want you to tell me a little bit more about yourself, okay?"

Great. I had a whole week to make up a pack of lies of who I thought I could be.

* * *

 **Fix You - Coldplay**


	10. From Yesterday

**Ashley**

 **From Yesterday**

It's been sixteen days, eight hours, and twenty four minutes since I woke up.

I wasn't sure which I preferred – still living in the nightmare of working for the Agency, or living in a complete new nightmare.

Aiden had been overstaying his welcome. He spent so much time with me that I thought he was going to pop the question soon, getting down on one knee and all. But that never happened. I wanted to tell him to get lost, I really did, but part of me felt guilty. Another part felt lonely.

So I kept to myself, braced myself every time he showed up, and prayed for sleep to take me away from reality as often as possible.

There was something peculiar about Aiden's behavior – I couldn't really place my finger on it. Ever since he showed up the first time. Every day I saw him, he wore the same suit, impeccable as usual, hairstyle the same, _perfect_ , eyes greener than the day before, and his face free of any stubble. Something seemed off – he seemed just too precise, too healthy, too surreal.

Don't get me wrong; he could be the ideal guy, he could be flawless in every way possible, it still wouldn't make me fall for him. I just didn't swing that way. But everything about him – it was as if he was a Ken doll, molded to cringeworthy perfection.

And every time a nurse came by, or Doctors Carlin or Lewis, he had managed to excuse himself and disappear while they were with me. He had a freakishly scary intuition.

It was freaking me out.

But despite it all, I still couldn't get myself to ask him to leave and not come back.

"So, have you given thought to my proposition?"

I haven't even opened my eyes yet and here he was. There was no pretending with him either – he knew when I was asleep and trying to fake it.

I gradually blinked, sometimes still blinded by the light streaming into my new room. I had finally been downgraded to normal care. Now in a semi-private room, the other bed unoccupied for the time being, I had so much more privacy, and could actually move around a bit. I wasn't allowed to walk yet due to the broken ribs, but getting wheeled around in a wheelchair by the staff on this floor was a lot better than being stuck in bed all day.

I missed Kat, though.

"What was that again?" I finally sighed out, staring at Aiden. I was struggling today. My patience was running low, I felt moody, and really just wanted to get out and far away from everybody.

Aiden wore a cocky smile. One that I'd be happy to slap off his face.

"The job, when you get out of here. I need to know, so I can prepare things."

I wished I could fall asleep at a simple command to my brain. It was the only way he left me in peace. "I don't even know when I'm getting out."

I stared at Aiden, then at the door. Maybe if I pressed the nurse's button he'd leave.

"I can see when I'm not welcome. You're in a bad mood today," he pressed on. You'd think he'd get the hint, but despite his findings he just made himself more comfortable on the bed next to mine.

I didn't wish hospital stays upon anyone, and I'd probably be annoyed if I got a roommate, but maybe he'd stay away if I had someone to actually share the room with. I considered asking one of the nurses if there were any patients who wanted to bunk up.

"Ash, come on, help me out here. All I need is a yes or a no." He paused for a second, then looked at me. "On second thought, hold on to that answer. Would you like a snack or anything not from the hospital?"

See? He was doing the whole disappearing-thing again. I wondered who was on their way to my room. It bugged me, that he didn't want to be seen. Was he hiding from someone? Was I still in danger?

"Pop-Tarts. I want the cherry flavor. Oh, and minty gum."

"Got it. See you in an hour."

I watched him leave and turn left out of my room, excited that I'd get some nice snacks, but highly irritated because I just was.

Doctor Chelsea Lewis stepped into my room, oblivious to the visitor who had left less than a second ago. How did they _not_ see him leave my room? Nobody ever asked about him, except Kat, who saw the moved chair that one day.

"Ashley, it's so good to see you – you're really recovering quite well!" I enjoyed Doctor Lewis's visits, even if she never stayed long. She took her job very seriously, and once told me it was like an art to her. I admired her. She seemed so spiritually free, despite an underlying sadness I sometimes picked up when we tried to touch on the topic of family. She was somehow connected to the married Carlin doctors, but I didn't want to pry too much – the same way she knew not to ask about my non-existent family.

"Yeah, well, got to get out of here eventually," I smiled at her.

"What's the matter? You seem a bit down," Doctor Lewis said carefully, pulling a visitor's chair closer to my bed.

I sighed. Why was it that people could see the mood I was in but felt inclined to then stay and make me miserable?

"I just want to get out," I admitted, sitting upright. I made a point of it to stretch my limbs as often as I could, not wanting to lose muscle functionality. At least they had me do some basic exercises twice a week in the rehab section.

"Oh, girl, it's not long anymore. I think Doctor Carlin will probably give permission to have you discharged in a week or so. But you know you're not going to be a hundred percent back to normal yet, right?"

"I know that, I just… I miss the sun, and fresh air, and I just want to _walk_. I haven't done that in almost three weeks."

Doctor Lewis gave a supportive smile. "They will let you walk before you get discharged. Just have some patience. I know it's easier said than done. You're going to miss us when you leave though."

I had to agree with her there. They had become like family to me, if only just a fraction of what family was.

"I know what I can do for you in the meantime, though. Hang tight, I'll be back in a second," Doctor Lewis joked. By now I was used to her corny hospital jokes. I was going to miss that when I was gone.

I waited patiently, not as if I had anywhere to be or anything to do. It was that time of the day where all the TV channels were filled with soap operas and I wasn't going to get into that, ever. The music channels weren't any better, and it hurt to use headphones. So I avoided that. I'd read all the magazines the nurses had snuck in for me. There was literally nothing for me to do.

"So, I have about thirty minutes for a short break. Fancy getting out of here?" Doctor Lewis announced, stepping back into the room, pushing an empty wheelchair.

My face lit up. I wanted to hug her. "You're heaven-sent."

"Shh, don't tell anyone, but I'm actually an undercover angel." Another corny joke. It was supposed to make me laugh, but for some reason, it made me feel very uneasy. I faked a smile and allowed Doctor Lewis help me up from my bed into the chair.

"Won't you get into trouble?" I asked, concerned. I was ecstatic to get out of the room, but I definitely didn't want anybody to get into trouble.

"Nah, I'm one of the favorites."

* * *

"So, can I ask you something personal?"

I swallowed hard, curious to know just how curious people were about me. It couldn't have been more than I was myself. Like everybody else, I also wanted to know who Ashley Davies was.

I looked around me, staring at patients and visitors alike, sitting around in the little hospital park, soaking up the late afternoon sun. I'd be forever grateful towards Doctor Chelsea Lewis for cheering up my miserable day. The fresh air and sunlight was doing wonders. It was somewhat hard, to see all the people out here smiling, like they knew who they were and where they belonged. Even terminal patients who were allowed out briefly, were more content with themselves than I was. It was frustrating. I had to try and be grateful – I'd be out soon and could go and be whoever I wanted to be.

Doctor Lewis was waiting patiently with a smile on her face when I finally looked at her. I returned the smile uncertainly. "Sure."

Chelsea, like Arthur, was extremely good with people. She had sensed so easily that I wasn't entirely in the best space. Unlike Paula – the female Doctor Carlin – who frankly, scared me a little, Chelsea and Arthur were warm and open. They had this pull toward them, like you _wanted_ to talk to them, _wanted_ to tell them your troubles and fears.

"It's going to sound weird, but I'd really like to learn about that tattoo of yours. The one on your wrist – what is the meaning behind that?"

Of all the questions she could have asked, this was probably the least likely thing I'd ever think of, yet it was one of the toughest.

I wish I knew more about it. But no matter how hard I tried, I had no recollection of getting it, and still no connection to anyone or anything starting with an " _S_ ". I often found myself tracing the letter on the inside of my wrist – more than I ever did before. Usually it would only be part of my job ritual.

"To be honest, I can't really remember. I think I was drunk one night, it was a high-school thing," I lied. Who knows, maybe I was talking the truth.

Chelsea was back in doctor-mode. "Are you having memory problems, Ashley?"

And the frustration and foul mood was back. I sighed heavily, wishing we could forget about the accident for just one moment. What I wouldn't give to just talk about my past…

"No, it's not that. I just really don't remember much of my school days. I wasn't exactly there all the time, if you know what I mean. Doing school was totally overrated. I always believed that if you just showed up, they'd eventually let you out after four years." Another lie. Or perhaps another truth.

"Rebel without a cause?" Chelsea joked. I appreciated her light mood. It helped a little to keep my own frustration at bay.

"You could say that."

We sat and chatted lightly about everything and nothing for another twenty minutes. By the time we were headed back to my room, the foul mood had disappeared, and I was almost looking forward to the standard hospital dinner, and then much needed sleep.

We were about to go into the room, when something triggered my memory. I asked Doctor Lewis to hold back a second, and frowned. My room was at the end of the building. If you were inside and had to go into the open passageway, you could only turn right. There was a window on the left, looking out onto the city.

I didn't know why that bothered me, but it did.

Doctor Lewis helped me back into the bed, and I thanked her for going through the effort to take me outside. After she left, I wasn't surprised that Aiden strolled casually into the room. I was happy about my snacks, but still not happy to see him.

"Aaaw, why the long face, Ash? I got you your treats like you asked." Still cocky.

If he was going to ask me about the job he had for me again I was seriously going to call the nurses to remove him and send him back to where he came from. Wherever that was. I thought about that for a moment.

And then it struck me.

He walked in from the left…

* * *

 **From Yesterday – 30 Seconds to Mars**


	11. Gone too soon

**Sasha Miller**

 **Gone Too Soon**

Ever watched the movie ' _If Only'_? Or _'The Butterfly Effect'_? Today I wished I had some of Ian or Evan in me. Weird, I know, considering I was a girl, and resembled Niki Stevens of _The L-Word_.

I just wished I could go back in time a little and do things differently, change the course of life a little. Just up to today. Whatever else was in my destiny could run its course. I just wanted today to start differently – because then it would have ended differently.

Let me first go back a couple of years.

Dad was elected as Mayor for Los Angeles two years ago. I was so proud of him back then. If there was someone who could make a positive difference, it was him. I've always adored my father. Ever since I was little I wanted to be just like him. He was liked by everyone, by people he knew and even by people he didn't know. That was exactly the thing – he had so many people who knew him, who knew _of_ him, that it was difficult to keep track of fan mail, hate mail, occasional phone calls to our home phone that weren't supposed to. At first I didn't understand it. I mean, I was two years away from graduation – I was a naïve teenager who worshiped the ground my father walked on. What sixteen-year old teenager could say that about their parents?

I didn't want to be involved in politics like him, but I've found my calling. Where he changed lives by being in a position that allowed him to make decisions on behalf of people, I wanted to change lives by helping people make the right decisions for themselves. Help people get over addictions, heartbreaks, dependencies, marriage trouble, you name it. I just wanted to help.

So in my senior year I applied to a couple of universities for a psychology major. I had an average GPA of 3.9, so I was fairly safe to get into UCLA – I preferred not to go far from home. But I tried some other places as well, you know, just in case.

The day I got my acceptance letter from UCLA I was ecstatic. Mom was ecstatic. Dad, well, he was disappointed, because he wanted me to follow in his footsteps – literally. I hated politics, but he insisted it was the right thing for me.

That's when the fighting started. And that's where my eyes started opening to what really went on in his office. Making decisions on behalf of people… not always the right decisions… some very dodgy decisions… His fan base shrunk and the number of people who despised him grew exponentially. The city's money spent on things that weren't important; and important, desperate things left behind to disintegrate further. I'd occasionally hear him and Mom fight. I'd hear words like _mobs_. Words like _dangerous_ , and _fear_ , and _scared_.

My mother was a strong woman. Very few things in life scared her. So hearing her say those words made me angry. How dared he? How _dared_ he make her feel those things?

I was brave. I didn't know what was going on around me and like the naïve teenager I was, chose not to find out. I wanted to get out of the house, and go live my dreams. I almost applied to NYC, just to get far, far away from home.

But the thought of Mom being left alone to deal with the monster that had taken over Dad was killing me. I chose to stay.

* * *

It was graduation day and I heard Mom and Dad yelling at each other in the kitchen. Fighting over me, _again_.

 _"Dan, come on, you've got to let this go. Can't you be proud of her, for God's sake?"_ Mom hissed angrily.

I padded further down the carpeted stairs of our state-provided manor, and tiptoed the rest of the way to the kitchen, curious to know what the outcome of this conversation was going to be. I might as well – he's already ruined my big day anyway.

 _"I am proud of her, Olivia. I just wish she'd discussed this with us before she made her decision. God, I would have liked her to at least go to Harvard or Yale. UCLA is brilliant but with us being alumni at Harvard and Yale, I would have preferred her to keep up the family name there."_

 _"So is this what it's all about? You're upset about her damn university choices?"_ The pitch in Mom's voice was rising dangerously. _"I don't get you, Dan!"_

 _"Keep your voice down, Olive."_

 _"Don't Olive me. Tell me, honestly, that this isn't some bullshit you're feeding me. Because if you're only upset about Harvard and Yale, then I expect you to be at that graduation today, Dan. Tell me!"_

 _"Olivia…"_

 _"I'm warning you, Dan. I'm not scared to pack my bags – you should know that by now. Your position doesn't mean anything in this household anymore."_

 _"Okay, for fuck's sake, Olivia, I will be there, okay?"_

I felt bile of anger rise up in my throat. He was going only because Mom threatened him? What kind of father does that?

I was sick and tired of this. At least I'd get to move out of the house and onto campus. I insisted. I couldn't wait for this summer holiday to start. Away from home for three months. And then back to school – in a different house.

Things were looking up for me.

But first…

With a clenched jaw, I stepped into the kitchen, clearing my throat to make my presence known. They were both leaning against the kitchen cupboards as if it provided more support than you'd expect from your loving spouse. Mom looked up in shock, Dad just clenched his own jaw and sighed as he stared at me with tired eyes. Something I'd learned from him.

"Stay away from my graduation. I don't want you there." My voice was surprisingly calm even though I felt like breaking from the inside. This was my Dad. My role model. My hero. And I wanted him to stay away from me for the rest of my life.

Those were words I couldn't ever take back.

If only…

* * *

"Sasha, come on! Get your ass over here!"

I laughed as Katie, my best friend, grabbed my hand and pulled me towards the doors leading outside to the sports fields. Since we were such a huge class, they've decided to use the football field for the graduation ceremony.

With our gowns already on, we jogged through the doors and the short distance to the field. Students were to sit on the left while a crowd of proud parents were seating themselves on the right.

I felt butterflies not only because I saw my mother, but also because I didn't see my father. For once, he'd listened.

Without his judgmental demeanor there, I could deliver my valedictorian speech with pride. I'd throw in a couple of jokes, keep my image as most loved, popular girl, and deliver a message to my fellow classmates that being on top wasn't everything. Just take a good, deep look at my family and you'd know what I'm talking about.

We grabbed our seats in the back row, now fully occupied by the school's most popular group – the jocks and cheerleaders. I occasionally rolled my eyes at the entire notion, but decided I'd enjoy it while it lasted. Things were going to be so different at UCLA. No more clicks, cliché groups, and kids so ready to lose themselves just to fit in somewhere. I didn't care about these things anymore. I was ready to be myself for a change.

I sat and listened as our principal delivered a generous speech to our class. We'd definitely not been the easiest. This class lived for drama and scandals. It shouldn't be surprising, given I was the mayor's daughter; Jason, who sat three chairs away from me, was a senator's son; Cassidy, who was my other best friend, was the daughter of two famous actors, and the list went on…

I couldn't help but tune out a little as my eyes drifted across the rows of students. I had really tried this year to befriend most of them, or at least, not be the bitch that was expected of me. I'd come to learn so many interesting things about kids who had ordinary lives – and I envied so many of them. I was also the keeper of many secrets – I'd mastered the Miller skill of getting people to open up to you. But unlike my dad, I didn't use people's secrets against them. I tried to help people, wherever I could.

I really hoped that I've managed to make a difference in at least one person's life this year – one person that wasn't a close friend. That was a personal goal I'd never know I achieved unless somebody said something. It didn't matter, though. I knew that as long as I was trying, and giving my utmost best, then I would be content with myself.

And I was – I really was.

I was now trying to recognize familiar faces of parents I'd known for years, even ones that I've only met occasionally. My eyes landed on my own mother and my heart softened.

She was a very supportive woman. Of my dad, of me, of anyone she loved. I didn't know how she did that – just give up everything that was important to her, to support her family. I really loved her for that. She had attended all my sports events back in elementary school, even some in middle school. She was always there to help me with my homework, with class projects, with anything I needed help with. And she was always there to offer a comforting shoulder when Katie and I had a fight, or when someone broke up with me.

I really loved my mom. And I hated my dad for not seeing how great she was. Speaking of; it was a bad habit, but a habit none-the-less, I checked all the exit points and saw our ever present body-guards standing at attention. Every so often they'd whisper something into their sleeves and then press a finger to their ears to listen carefully to instructions. It was so easy to catch their rhythm, it would start with the far left entrance, and in a Mexican-wave motion go all around until the guard at the far left entrance would finally stand at attention again. I couldn't help but snort at how obvious they actually were.

A tap on my knee and amused look from Katie on my right brought me out of my musing. I just shrugged and waved her off, not wanting to get into detail about our lax security staff. I'd only noticed four of them today. I guess Dad thought his family wouldn't be targeted at a high profile prep school.

"…And I now hand the floor with great pleasure, to your valedictorian, Sasha Miller!"

This was it. My last moment of fame, before I could start with the rest of my life. Two more hours out in the glaring morning sun, and we were free. I couldn't wait.

I felt my heart swell with pride as I strode down the middle isle separating students from parents in their seats. The school have been so kind to lay down a red carpet for us. It was amazing what they could do when rich parents sponsored endless pits of money for who-knows-what.

The applause didn't die down until I reached the podium, pulling down the microphone slightly for the state-of-the-art sound system to carry my voice across the football field.

The Miller-voice. That's what my dad used to say.

Today it was going to be the Sasha Miller voice. I was breaking free from the political grip on our name. Breaking free into the world of possibilities and opportunities that waited for us just three months down the line.

The excitement got the better of me.

" _'Embrace those parts of yourself that you've skillfully avoided until now. That's your true adventure.'_ Those are the words of Gina Greenlee, a woman who has traveled around the world solo. She's lived on two continents. Wrote twelve books. She failed geometry in 10th grade, and later aced graduate school statistics… Fellow graduates, members of the board, Principal Harper, patient and beloved teachers, and very important, dear parents…"

I briefly held my cue cards still and glanced past the supportive audience, taking in the beauty of being put on stage. The podium was right on the 50-yard line, creating a visual symmetry so stimulating I almost cried. The line ran underneath the carpet, all the way back to the bleachers, there also, creating division. Left and right looked equally similar. But the memories the left hand side held over the right hand side, were different. A lot of private parties were held below. Even inside the locker rooms.

A brief reflection caught my eye from the roof of the press box, reminding me I had a speech to deliver.

"What was very interesting to me is that this great woman, who was maybe not the best in high school geometry, achieved so many things on such an inspiring level afterwards. And I'd like you to keep that in mind throughout this sermon, because for most of us, high school was playground. And for whom it wasn't, even more so. Because, fellow graduates, life… only starts today."

I smiled as the entire student body cheered me on. It was important to know that each one of them were listening. This was my last chance to make a difference in high school.

The same reflection my eye had caught earlier, blinded me for another second, and I frowned, peering at the press box. There was nothing up there. It must have been a loose panel or something.

"Before I continue with a speech I hope all of you will take to heart and carry it with you forever, I first want to give thanks to – "

Had it not been for that blinding reflection, I might have seen what was traveling towards me at a velocity of 2550 feet per second. Perhaps that was wishful thinking, but my naked eye could make out a minuscule object for a split second before an odd pain shot through my forehead. At first I thought a flying insect had been subjected to the typical high school spiked punch, and was maybe distressed in its flight as it hit my forehead. Out of instinct, my eyes search my mother's in the suddenly frantic crowd, and I knew something was wrong the moment I found hers.

Something was wrong.

All coherent thought left my mind as my body gave in underneath me, abandoning me like my father usually did of late.

I heard cries, screams, sobs, my name.

If only I could make out what they were saying through the loud ringing of my ears.

The day started bad, and ended bad. If only I hadn't told my dad to stay away; we would have had more security detail. If only I hadn't been so persistent to be valedictorian. If only I'd raised alarm the first time I saw that reflection up on the roof of the press box.

If only…

The world around me darkened at a rapid speed, and I was thankful, because the pain searing through my head was unbearable.

It felt like hours to me, but in reality, my life – the life that was just about to start, was over in a second…

* * *

 **Gone too soon – Simple Plan**


	12. Through the Ghost

**A/N: I realized there are more confusion than bums sliding to the edges of seats anticipating what's next… But fear not, the answers are in this chapter. I don't want to spoil it, I'd rather you read and find out; so I'll respond to all the reviews in the next chapter, and what the story is based on. Hopefully things make more sense after this! Thanks to all who's been reading and reviewing and following and sticking to the mystery!**

* * *

 **Ashley**

 **Through the Ghost**

I woke up with a start. Heart racing, skin clammy, breathing erratically short, and a shooting pain going through my head. This feeling was all too familiar. My eyes scanned the room, landing on Aiden who sat patiently on the still empty bed next to mine, watching me. It was as if he knew exactly what was going on with me.

I squeezed my eyes shut, fighting back tears as I recalled the nightmare. It was the same as the one I had with Aiden, except this time I was Sasha Miller, and I lived in her shoes up until the moment she got shot. By me. My hand instinctively reached to feel my own forehead but there was nothing.

The impact of that bullet felt more real this time. I had a pounding headache, and it didn't help that I kept replaying those last moments in my mind. At least I wasn't violently vomiting again, but the nausea was there.

"Sasha Miller?"

I looked up at Aiden, wishing more than ever I could tell him to leave. Why did he have to be so cocky all the time? I watched as he got off the bed, leaving no evidence that he was ever on it. Things were on the verge of making sense, yet I still couldn't figure it out.

"How did you know?" My voice was shaking. Glancing down at my hands, I realized _everything_ was shaking.

"She's on her way in. Just getting directions to your room," Aiden said nonchalantly.

Wait, _what?_

My eyes followed Aiden as he walked to the door, glanced to the right, then left, and stood back eventually, allowing a teenage girl to enter. From the left.

The left…

I remembered realizing Aiden coming from there. I must have passed out at the realization. And I was sure I was headed to a world of darkness again as I recognized the teenage girl.

Sasha Miller.

Wearing her graduation gown, and I hoped something decent underneath, she looked as flawless as Aiden. Hair effortlessly wavy, make-up applied to perfection, not one scar or mark on her Barbie-molded body. Except for the painful reminder of how she got here in the first place. A small, star-shaped scar right in the middle of her forehead, barely visible, but there. Even if it wasn't visible, I'd know it was there for the rest of my life.

I felt a gasp leave my lips as she smiled up at me, her eyes clouded with sadness, but smiling none-the-less.

I didn't know what I expected from her, maybe some anger?

"Hi, Ashley," Sasha said politely, making her way to my bed, Aiden short on her heels. "I heard about your accident, I'm so sorry."

 _She_ was sorry? Why did she apologize? I was freaking out. My hand was already on the nurses' button before I could stop myself.

"We'll be back in a bit, would you like some coffee from the cafeteria?" Sasha asked sweetly, motioning for Aiden to follow her.

Of course.

They were out of the room just as a new night-nurse appeared by the door. Her friendly smile disappeared – probably as she saw the panic on my face – and was replaced with concern. "Miss Davies? Is everything okay?"

No, it would never be okay again.

"Please don't let them come back," I huffed out, wrapping my arms around myself. I probably looked as crazy as I felt.

The nurse frowned. "Let who come back?"

"My… visitors – don't let them back in here," I started sobbing. They were real, please tell me they were real.

"Miss Davies, which visitors? I haven't seen anyone up in your room for the past two days."

That was _so_ not what I wanted to hear.

"Please can you get Doctor Lewis for me?" I begged her. Maybe Chelsea would understand. I knew Arthur would too, but I felt more comfortable with Chelsea at the moment. She wouldn't think I was crazy, right?

The nurse checked her watch. "Well, it's 11PM, Doctor Lewis is not in tonight. Can it wait until the morning?"

I shook my head furiously. I wouldn't survive the night. They were going to come back. The moment this nurse left my room, they were going to come back. I couldn't remember a time I was more scared than this.

"Please, you don't understand, it's an emergency. Is Doctor Carlin here?" I pleaded with her.

"Miss Davies, if you are not in a immediate medical emergency, I cannot page either doctors for you. Protocol states that nurses assist and stabilize the situation first. So what is the matter?"

My panic induced state was pushed aside to make way for anger I didn't know I harbored. Who the hell did this nurse think she was? Weren't they supposed to _help_ patients?

"Look, nurse… whatever your name is. Please, I need Doctor Carlin or Doctor Lewis here, _now!"_ I didn't bother with an explanation. She could go fuck herself.

The nurse turned on her heel and I freaked even more. No way she was leaving me alone in this room! "No! Don't go! Page them, _please_! I _beg_ you, please."

Emotions were running high. I went from crying to a raging lunatic to crying again in the matter of seconds. Pretty soon I could see my ass hauled off to some psychiatric ward.

The nurse sighed audibly, informing me silently that she wasn't happy at all. "I'll need to call my charge nurse."

"Can you call them from here?" I asked. Okay, begged.

Another sigh. The young nurse finally caved in and marched over to my bed, reaching for the panel colored with various buttons and numbers. I watched her punch in a code, and moments later another nurse came rushing in.

This one was much older, but didn't look very friendly. I cringed, feeling so small all of the sudden.

"Nurse Crawford? What seems to be the problem?" the charge nurse asked, glancing between the nurse and myself.

"Miss Davies is requesting Doctor Carlin or Doctor Lewis's presence – "

"Go page Doctor Arthur Carlin, he is on duty tonight," the charge nurse instructed. Then, after making sure the younger nurse had left, she turned back to me, her expression turned from serious to concerned. "Miss Davies, I'm just quickly going to check your vitals. Will you sit upright for me?"

I did as I was told. The charge nurse took my pulse, listened to my breathing, checked my eyes, the usual check. Her concern didn't cease when she picked up my file to record her findings, which in turn stressed me out more.

"Are you in any pain, Miss Davies?"

My heart was somewhat broken, but I wasn't sure that counted. I shook my head _no_.

"Are you experiencing trouble with nightmares?"

 _Bingo_. Only, this _wasn't_ a nightmare.

Well, whatever it was, the nurse seemed satisfied that the problem could be the nightmares. And she also seemed satisfied with the decision to get Doctor Carlin here. "Okay, Doctor Carlin should be on his way up now. Is there anything we can get you in the meantime? Some tea perhaps?"

Eeeeew. "Can you just stay here until Doctor Carlin gets here?"

"Of course, Miss Davies."

"Ashley? What's wrong?" Arthur waltzed into my room, concern written all over his face.

Something about Aiden and Sasha's presence was gnawing at the back of my head, I just wished I could figure out what. And I wished I could tell Doctor Carlin, so badly.

"It seems like the nightmares are still persistent, Doctor Carlin. Is there anything you want to prescribe for her for sleep tonight?"

"Ashley?"

I nodded eagerly. _Anything_ would help. I'd gladly sleep through the rest of the year if I could.

Doctor Carlin sighed and motioned for the nurse to order medication, and then sat down on the chair next to my bed. "Do you want to talk about it?"

Which part? Dreaming of the people I killed or them coming back to life?

"There was a girl – I don't know her, or her name – I was her. And she got shot. The same way Aiden did. It felt so real," I squeezed my eyes shut, missing the pained look on my Doctor's face.

"You've never seen her before?" Arthur pressed.

If Sasha Miller's name had to slip from my lips, _ever_ , I'd never see daylight again. I'd have the FBI on me within seconds. "No, I don't even know what she looks like."

Doctor Carlin sighed. "Okay, I'm going to prescribe something to help you sleep a little better, we'll have a look at your medication intake again tomorrow. It's almost time for our session, so I'm not going to push too much about it now. I want you to write down everything you remember about the nightmares – I'll get someone to bring you a notebook and a pen. Then we can start from there on Friday."

I really hoped they'd give me something to knock me out immediately.

* * *

"You know, I'm starting to think you don't want us here. You can't let them sedate you forever, Ashley."

I groaned inwardly, wishing I could somehow slip right back into slumber. Whatever the nurse gave me two nights ago really made me feel _so_ good.

But Aiden knew I was conscious despite my eyes still being closed, and he was going to annoy me until I couldn't fall back asleep.

I forced my eyelids open, dreading to see him. I wondered –

"It's good to see you're awake. I was worried there for a while," Sasha made her presence known.

 _Nevermind_. They were both here. Aiden was on the empty bed next to mine, comfortably browsing through a women's magazine, propped up with his back against the pillows. You'd swear he was a model for hospital beds, as if it was ever comfortable.

Sasha was seated on the visitor's chair next to my bed, her legs propped up on the rail of my bed. She was flipping through the channels on the tiny overhead TV, clearly bored.

What the hell? They were hanging around as if we were all best friends!

"What are guys doing here? Seriously? What _are_ you?" I was getting annoyed.

Aiden dropped the magazine and stared at me, a smile forming on his lips. All I wanted to do was punch his perfect face. "I thought you'd never ask!" Cocky as ever.

"Ashley," Sasha took a deep breath. "We're – "

"Leaving. Coffee?" Aiden offered.

I let out a grunt of frustration. _Really?_ They wouldn't let me sleep ten minutes longer but couldn't wait to jump up the minute someone was on their way? I sighed and watched them leave the room, always turning to the left.

Wait.

I was on it the other day. There was a wall on the left – you _couldn't_ go anywhere.

Were they –

Doctor Lewis appeared in the door. "You look like you've seen a ghost. Are you okay?"

* * *

 **Through the Ghost - Shinedown**


	13. Dead Wrong

**A/N:**SPOILER ALERT** - SKIP THE A/N IF YOU DON'T WANT THE PLOT REVEALED!**

 **I know, dear readers, that it's been excruciatingly frustrating not knowing what was going on or what to expect, I just really didn't want to spoil the plot without laying down some chapters to give some insight on the main character. I feel that it's still a bit too early, but oh well…**

 **This fic is loosely (VERY loosely) based on a web-series (known as Angel of Death, 2009) about an assassin who, after brain injury, started seeing the ghosts of her victims, and then seek revenge on her bosses who ordered the hits. I didn't watch the actual series and there seems to be a movie (I found the trailer on YouTube) as well but I couldn't find anything solid on the net – I actually have no idea how I came across the story to start with! So, with only that simple plot line to go with, my imagination ran away with me, and I just had such an urge to write what I thought this story could be in the world of SON. So, this fic contains a substantial amount more original work than my others – though I do not own the original plot idea – how I wish I did!**

 **So… now that everyone finally knows… I hope you enjoy the ride! And yes, Spencer is in the fic. And nope, I'm not revealing her exact role, except that obviously, it is a big one, since this is a Spashley fanfic. I'll give you this though; Kyla, in this story, is not a ghost. So her POV's are for real. The rest I'm leaving for you to figure out, it should be quite easy now, there is a clear pattern.**

 **Thanks for sticking it out with me, this particular fic is a huge personal journey for me so it's close to my heart – and I won't abandon it - for those who are worried! Happy reading!**

* * *

 **SonFan – CH8 : I hope now that I've busted the plot you won't be upset if I don't upload so many chapters at once – I'm trying to keep it real with as much detail as I possibly can so the writing takes quite long ;)**

 **GirlsOnly – CH8 : Also not the biggest Aiden fan, but he plays an important role, kindof like in SON. It just won't be the same without him!**

 **Melirufus – CH9 : You are forgiven for not reviewing – I totally understand! I truly appreciate you supporting and reading the fic even though it's been very confusing – thank you so so so much for that! As mentioned above, Spencer will be in the fic in due time, now that the plot has been revealed I know people are going to start making guesses about her role, but she'll be here, I promise. It's a long fic, I have about 80 chapters mapped out, it could turn out shorter or perhaps slightly longer, so don't stress, we're still way in the beginning! Plenty of time for Spencer to pop in!**

 **Mellyb14 – CH9 : I hope things are making a little more sense now, and that it will be easier to read onward now that you understand what it's about. Thank you for reading, I really appreciate you sticking it out with me!**

 **Guest – CH11 : I get that you are confused about adding dead people to the mix, hopefully now that I explained what's going on, their POV's will make a little bit more sense. The story does move forward, believe me, and I am very dedicated to this story, it's a personal project with a lot more meaning than anyone will ever understand, so… do not fear, you will see an end in due time! A good ending ;)**

 **TheDWall – CH11 : Thank you so much, and thank you for reading, despite all the confusion! I hope the rest of the fic will be as intriguing and a good read for you ;)**

 **GirlsOnly – CH12 : Thank you! I'm so relieved that slowly people are getting the plot, I was really worried but looks like I didn't have to. Thank you for reading and reviewing!**

 **SonFan – CH12 : I'm relieved to see that kind of response on this chapter – I was worried that people would still be in the dark (no pun intended) Thank you for reading and reviewing, it really means a lot!**

 **Trmack9 – CH12 : 12 Chapters in… is still like the prologue to me ;P This is one l-o-o-o-n-g fic, Spencer's character is being carefully written to perfection while you read all about Ashley. Be patient ;) Thank you so much for reading and reviewing!**

 **Son-lyn – CH12 : Aah, my guru. So good to hear from you. This fic is all your fault – I took your advice on the last fic when you said I should carefully plot everything out – and I ended up with an 80-chapter idea! So if people are squeamish about me taking time to reveal the story I'm just gonna say it was all you! I was fascinated to read your take on what you think it is all about, very interesting ;) Thank you so much for reading and dropping a review, I really appreciate it!**

 **Guest – CH12 : Wow, thank you so much! You have no idea how much that means, that you haven't given up on this fic and I'm glad that it's more enjoyable now that things make more sense! Thank you so much for reading and reviewing!**

* * *

 **Ashley**

 **Dead Wrong**

I stared at Doctor Lewis, my gaze taking turns between her and the door. There was a wall with a window just outside, to the left.

Sasha Miller was about to reveal what I'd come to realize they were, seconds before they walked out.

Ghosts.

Ironic, isn't it, that Doctor Lewis saw that very same answer on my face, even though she couldn't see _them?_

"Ashley?"

Oh, yeah, there was also the real world to deal with. Where normal people considered people like me crazy. They couldn't be ghosts, could they?

I watched as Doctor Lewis came closer to me with caution. She was trying to read my face, while I was trying to find a way to ask her the obvious.

"I uh," I scratched my head, took a deep breath, "are there any visitation policies here at the hospital?"

Chelsea looked at me weirdly but then smiled. "There is, are you expecting visitors?" She almost sounded happy for me. I was relieved to have distracted her from wondering what was wrong, but I wasn't happy. Her question just answered my own – she _didn't_ see them just walk out of my room.

"I uh, I might…" Were there any policies on when we were allowed to expect ghosts?

"That's great, Ashley! Well, there's two-hour slots three times a day; 10AM, 2PM, and 7PM. They can come at any of those times or all of them." I felt a pang at Chelsea's excitement. If only I had some _real_ people that could come visit during those hours.

"I heard what happened the other night so I thought I'd come and check in quickly. How are you feeling? Are the nightmares still bugging you?"

More like ghosts bugging me, but I couldn't tell her that.

"Yeah, it's unnerving."

"Well, I got you a notepad and pens, as per Doctor Carlin's request. I hope you'll be able to work through this, before you get discharged." She smiled and held up the items in her hands.

I couldn't help the sudden tears of gratitude. Even though there was no way I was going to write down exactly what I dreamed, or _lived_ , just the gesture of Chelsea bringing the stationery was sweet. It made me miss camaraderie, close friendships, family – despite having no recollection of what any of it felt like. Or what family _should_ feel like. "Thank you, Doctor Lewis."

"You can call me Chelsea if you want, when it's just us," she offered kindly.

I had a knot in my throat. _God, when did you become such a softy?_ "Thank you, Chelsea."

We both laughed at that and then there was an awkward silence.

"Anyway, I need to get going, I'll come and check in again later. If you ever need to talk, Ashley… I'm here, okay?"

I could only nod, afraid that I'd spill everything the moment I opened my mouth. Chelsea gave my shoulder a supportive squeeze and then made her way out of the room.

She was barely out the door when my newfound friends came waltzing in. My mood instantly changed; though I wouldn't mind company, I certainly didn't want theirs. But guilt was eating away at me – I couldn't ask them to leave.

"She seems nice," Sasha commented, making herself comfortable on the visitor's chair again.

Aiden took comfort on the bed, but instead of picking up where he left off with the magazine, he stared at me, his piercing green eyes sparkling.

"What?"

"So, do you want to talk about it?" he pressed. He seemed almost… _excited_? What was so damn exciting about being a ghost and haunting me? Didn't they have anything better to do?

I sighed. "Oh, yeah. Let's talk, _John Edward_. Shall we get the cameras rolling for _Crossing Over_? Oh, wait, I don't have anything to wear." I couldn't help myself. This was ridiculous. I was feeling ridiculous. Ghosts weren't real!

Sasha chuckled and Aiden just threw me a dirty look.

"It's not funny, Ashley. This is really some serious stuff," Aiden defended himself.

"Are you listening to yourself? I can't believe I'm even talking to you – you're not _real_!"

I expected their gasps. What I _didn't_ expect, however, was a terrifying shooting pain going right through my forehead all the way down to my spine the moment I said that word. It was excruciating.

Despite the pain, I was furious. "Did _you_ do this?" I demanded angrily. Aiden had _no_ idea who he was dealing with.

But his hands were up in defense – I was surprised he didn't have a little white flag waving around. "I didn't do anything, _you_ did. You have to take this seriously Ashley, or there could be consequences. Bad ones."

I was still finding it ludicrous, but decided to listen. I'd do anything to just get rid of them.

"So, as you've established, yes, we are ghosts," Sasha spoke up. "And we're here for a specific reason."

I mocked excitement. "Halloween came early?"

"Ashley…" Aiden was _so_ fucking annoying.

"Shut it, Casper. Talk, Sasha."

Sasha took a deep breath. Could she even breathe? How?

"Ashley, you've done some really horrible things the past couple of years. You've got a chance to start over. Really start over – without the memory of what you've done."

She had my full attention at that. "Go on…"

"It's not going to be easy, and we're not here for the fun of it either. We're not some guardian angels or even here to guide you. In fact, we hate you and should be finding ways to make you suffer in misery for the rest of your life, but we can't do that, because that's not who we were." Sasha looked at me with the same sadness as when I saw her the first time as a ghost.

I suddenly felt terrible. She was only seventeen… and I took her life away from her. I didn't blame her for feeling resentful towards me – I would too if our roles were reversed.

"So what do you want from me?" I finally asked, my emotions running high again. I'd do anything to get rid of this conscience. I'd do anything for a memory wipe – it's not like I haven't gone through it before.

"You need to kill more people," Aiden stated simply. As if it was the easiest thing to do. Like breathing. Or drinking water. Right now I would've liked to suffocate Aiden and then drown him in drinking water. But that wasn't going to help – he was dead already.

I shook my head before the words could even leave my lips. There was no way. "I can't."

"We'll give you some time to reconsider it. But things are going to get worse the longer you take," Sasha said cautiously.

I laughed ruefully. "How much worse _can_ it get? I'm stuck with you guys, aren't I?"

Sasha just shook her head solemnly.

"You don't know what you're dealing with, Ashley," Aiden piped up.

I felt bad about Sasha, I really did. But Aiden should just keep his mouth shut. Yes, so I killed him. But he was also a murderer! Long before I even came in the picture, Aiden was a sniper for the very same Agency I worked for. So did I feel bad about him? No. Annoyed? Extremely. He did _not_ get to play the martyr card with me.

"Fine, I'll _think_ about it. But in the meantime, we need to lay down some ground rules. Starting with visiting hours."

* * *

I was still in a daze about the whole ghost-thing. Part of me wanted to believe it so badly, but common sense told me that it was more serious than that. After all, I had just suffered a major head injury. The logical part of me reasoned that I was either suffering permanent damage or something went wrong during surgery.

Either way, I had to talk to Doctor Arthur Carlin about it. There was just no way I'd get myself talked into killing again by two very real-looking nightmares.

I was relieved to be wheeled off to Doctor Carlin's suite, instead of being shrinked right in my room. It felt a little more private, knowing my two _friends_ couldn't walk in on us. I pushed aside the thought that they could be following me right now and I wouldn't even know it. Or worse, catch a ride on the wheelchair – I could just imagine Aiden being cocky enough to sit on my lap and smirking, knowing full well I couldn't do anything about it.

 _Get a grip, Ashley_.

I'd find a way to get back at him.

"This is it. I'll be back in an hour – or someone from this floor will take you back to your room," the kind male nurse who'd been wheeling me up and down declared, pausing in front of a door in a long, narrow corridor, doors lined up on both sides. He knocked softly and opened the wooden door, pushing me into a room that felt entirely out of place in this sterile, bland, hospital.

It was a welcome change. Small, but homey. The walls were painted yellow, or perhaps the color was a result of several yellow lights creating a relaxing environment. Two single sofas and another larger sofa decorated the soft, brown carpet, while a couple of paintings, photographs and framed award certificates spruced up the walls. I could faintly make out the two Carlin doctors, with toddlers – I guessed it was taken a good couple of years ago – in a beautiful black and white framed photograph. They looked like a tight-knit family; sporting two boys and a girl. I assumed the one boy was adopted. Nevertheless, they all looked happy, stirring some emotion within me that I wasn't ready to deal with.

Family.

I had no idea what that even was anymore.

"Ashley, it's good to see you, " Arthur announced his presence, entering from a small side door I haven't noticed previously. I wished I could spend the rest of my recovery period in this room – it just felt so much humane than my own semi-private room.

"Hi Doctor C." I hoped he wouldn't mind me shortening his name. It got confusing sometimes to articulate which doctor Carlin I was talking to.

A wide smile, crinkling the corners of his eyes, made me feel at home.

"I'd offer you one of the sofas, but seeing you brought your own chair, let's get down to business, shall we?" I appreciated his sense of humor.

"Any new nightmares?"

 _God, where do I even begin?_ They may have followed me right into this room!

"No… but there is something else…" I was risking a lot here, but I didn't care. Nobody said anything that I wasn't allowed to tell on them.

Doctor Carlin noticed my hesitation, and encouraged me with a patient smile. "Go on."

"Do you believe in ghosts?" _Please don't lock me up in a psychiatric ward!_

His smile didn't falter. In fact, it just grew wider. I really hoped I wasn't imagining this. "Do _you_?"

I shook my head furiously. "No! I mean… I don't believe in them, but I think I'm seeing them…"

I dropped my gaze, unsure what to expect. I really didn't want to be locked away. I had a faint memory of a movie I've once seen with a bunch of crazy girls locked up, it was disturbing, but so good. Of course I couldn't remember details – it seemed like none of my odd memories contained proper details. It was more like a carrot dangled in front of me but never letting me quite get the taste of it. Not even a damn lick.

"Ashley," Doctor Carlin interrupted my thoughts. "These ghosts… tell me more about them."

I prayed that they weren't in the room with us. Aiden was just going to get even more irksome if he ever had to find out I was telling on them.

I felt like a five-year-old tattletale.

"Well, I don't really know how to explain it… you know the nightmares, the people…"

Never in my life have I appreciated someone who could fill in the blanks for me like Doctor Arthur Carlin did. "Ah, so you think the people you dreamed about are ghosts in reality?"

I nodded quickly. "Something like that, yeah."

He smiled, much to my surprise, but also relief, to some extent.

"Ashley, I think I may have a theory here, you're not the first person it's ever happened to. Given the head injury you sustained, the medication you are on, and the recovery process you are going through, I think you're suffering from side-effects. Simply put, I believe what you are experiencing are hallucinations." There wasn't any sign that he was going to have me locked up. Yet. "And it's fully treatable."

I may have held my breath for a tad bit too long. I released a relieved puff at the logical explanation to my little… _problem_. "Really?"

Doctor Carlin continued smiling, like he had been the entire time. There were no words to describe how at ease he made me feel. Whoever said shrinks were terrible?

"Of course. I'm sorry, you might feel like a guinea pig experiment, but unfortunately with head injuries and medication, there's almost never a first time where everything works in sync. It's always a case of trying different things until we get a combination that works."

I didn't mind being a guinea pig – at all. As long as there was a medical, logical, realistic explanation for the confusion I've been going through, they could try any drug on me. I just wanted the verification that I wasn't going crazy.

And more important; I couldn't wait to go back to my room and see Aiden dissolve like an overrated, overused slide-show transition as I swallowed pill after pill.

This was great news.

I'd become a drug testing guinea pig for a _living_ if needed be.

"I'm ready. What do we try first?"

* * *

 **Dead Wrong – The Fray**


	14. Yes it's f-ing political

**A/N: All legal matters are purely fictional; including but not limited to buildings, land, companies and court proceedings mentioned.**

 **Thank you all for reading and reviewing! Apologies for the spoiler in the previous chapter – doesn't mean the mystery is over though! I'm trying to get the next chapter done asap – just had some flu to deal with! Enjoy ;)**

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 **Mellyb14 – CH12 : Sorry I missed this review right before I posted CH13; I'm so glad you like the story and I'm relieved that it makes sense! Even more happy that you're on the edge of your seat – that's the whole idea :) Thank you for reading and reviewing!**

 **Southtrash – CH13 : Thank you so much for those wonderful compliments and the thumbs up, it really means a lot! The Spashleyness will be worth it and compensate for all the chapters without them when the time comes, I promise you! Thank you for reading and reviewing!**

 **Son-Lyn – CH13 : I'm sorry I didn't put a spoiler alert before I spilled the plot – I should have known there were readers like me who would've wanted to stay in the dark despite how frustrating it is. (since you can't turn that page-or chapter if it's not there yet!) But not to fear, that was the only thing I was willing to reveal, the rest will have to be figured out at the pace of the story. Supernatural/Paranormal is new for me, it's not exactly my fav, but like I mentioned, when I read the idea I thought I'd try my hand at it, the ghosts (in the story) are helping me portray Ashley's character a bit easier than other fics ;) Thank you for reading and reviewing, I'll try to get the next 67 chapters up as soon as humanly possible!**

 **SonFan – CH13 : Yes, you guessed right! Hopefully they'll keep you entertained throughout the fic, got so much planned for them ghosts! Thank you for reading and reviewing!**

 **Guest – CH13 : I'm so sorry about the late spoiler alert! And thank you for that compliment! I hope the remaining chapters will make up for the plot spill – it should still keep you guessing a couple of things for a while! Thank you for reading and reviewing!**

 **TheDWall – CH13 : There will be some hectic stuff and there will be some funny stuff – got quite a couple of chapters to play with Ashley and her ghosts! So let me not keep you from the real story – here's the next chapter! Thank you for reading and reviewing!**

 **GirlsOnly – CH13 : Thank you for the compliment! I like the visual of imagining someone dissolve like that – and why not Aiden! Thank you for reading and reviewing!**

* * *

 **Sean Miller**

 **Yes it's f*ing political**

"In the case of United States versus Polit-Enterprises, I hereby grant an appeal towards the States. This case will be forwarded to the Supreme Court in Washington."

My mind switched off when I heard the words _"grant an appeal"._ I barely registered that we'd be taking this so much further than we had ever dreamed of. All I could think of was the sudden relief that we had done what we had promised we'd do – stand up for the citizens of Frisco. Well, California to be exact. And not only the people, it was for the animals as well. Even plant life and forestry. This was huge. We were going to be huge. Our names were going to go down in history. Three, maybe four generations down the line, my grand children's children would read about this in their history books. Schools would teach kids about the importance of the case. Law schools would use this case as a building block in their studies.

I faintly heard the judge's gavel knock on the sound block, effectively pulling me from my daydreams.

"Now, since it's still classified as a class action, I will need to have counsel come and see me tomorrow morning at 8AM sharp to discuss D.C.'s pretrial conference and other matters going forward. Court dismissed."

There was an immediate shift in the mood; changing from a silent room filled with breaths held back, to a low murmur, rising to total chaos. There was a sudden substantial amount of cheering, clicking of camera shutters, and flashes suddenly blinding us from all directions.

It took a while to take it all in. I think my entire team was still in shock – they seemed as dazed as I was.

"This is not over, Miller. We'll see you in Washington. You're making a big mistake."

I stared at John Paxton, attorney for the defendants. I wondered what they had on him. He was a levelheaded guy back in college, sharing the same morals I did. We'd been such close friends back then that we almost opened up a firm together. But John got offered an associate position at a prestige law firm, and from there he'd turned rogue. It couldn't get worse than this, though. I felt sorry for him. These politicians were going to slaughter him after today's proceedings. They never expected us to get this far ahead.

"It's not too late to back down – for your own safety, Miller," he warned when out of earshot of reporters and his own team. "And your team. You know how dangerous this is going to get."

I refused to take his threats to heart. So typical when politicians were involved. They all thought people were scared of them, of their titles.

Well we were anything but scared. We _embraced_ their empty threats. It was what fueled us. "There is no terror, Paxton, in your threats, for we are armed so strong in honesty that they pass by us as the idle wind."

"Never stopped with the philosophy and lit, I see. Quoting Shakespeare is brave, Miller. This is the 20th century though, and you should know that your words alone is not what's going to keep you alive."

Still with the threats. I wondered what he knew. My eyes drifted over his right shoulder, through bodies of press, and landed on a couple of the so-called Polit-Enterprise's Directors. They were all politicians. I couldn't believe their audacity to think they'd just get away with this.

I felt eyes on me; Dan Miller. Mayor of Los Angeles. He wore a smirk as he stared me down. I lifted my chin and stared right back at him, silently accepting the challenge of taking this further. This wasn't only US versus Polit-Enterprises, it was also Miller versus Miller. I hated that we shared the same surname.

"Hey, we should get going, we've got interviews outside," a low voice whispered in my ear.

I smiled, feeling comforted by the presence of my team. Without them, I wouldn't have come this far. I felt honored to have them all by my side, especially the environmentalist. The sheer passion, strange obsession with animals, and love for any living thing is what made this attorney so successful. In just an hour we'd be signing papers for partnership.

We'd both been working so hard for it. Another huge step. But it helped that we grew up together; well, since senior year anyway, when their family moved all the way from Ohio to LA, and then to my delight, Frisco; wanting to enjoy life at a better pace and in a better setting than the rushed, foggy LA. We went to college together, then law school, then ended up interns at the same firm. It's where this entire case started.

That was already three years ago.

Now we were established on our own, the case were handed to us since no-one else wanted to take the risk; financial, political, safety… the list was endless. But we were fearless – we still are. And look where that got us. A D.C. Supreme Court case. Just the referral already was going to open up so many doors for us. Starting with the interviews outside.

I straightened my tie and took a swipe at my face with a hankie, the stuffy air in the courtroom all but comfortable. With a last glance at our opposition, I smiled tightly and held my head high as I lead my team outside the courtroom, and towards the outside of the building. I could see hordes of reporters and photographers outside, and almost didn't want to step through those glass doors. It would draw me into the harsh reality that was awaiting us.

More endless nights of late hours, often going into morning hours, spending time away from our families and children. We'd probably go to D.C. in two weeks, and spend a month there, fighting our case. Even though everybody would win in the long run, it was a huge sacrifice right now. It had already been for the past three years.

I thought of my wife and kids; hoping they'd forgive me for dragging this out even longer despite promising that it would probably have ended today. Due to the popularity of the case, they'd been subjected to media cornering them everywhere. Reporters, photographers, even late night talk show producers. It was the one thing I regretted – that my family had been exposed to this. It wasn't fair to my four-year-old son. Neither to our newborn baby. And especially not to my wife.

My team suffered the same demise. Families, fiancés, girlfriends, boyfriends… even the administrative staff back at the office were subjected to the chaos.

I took a deep breath, glanced at my team, and gathered courage from their excitement. My partner-to-be was right next to me. We'd both take on the press, both equally involved and invested. There was a great amount of trust in each other. With a final nod, we pushed open the doors and slowly made our way down the flight of steps of the court. It was a beautiful building, sporting architectural styles from Ancient Greece, sturdy white columns supporting the roof covering the building, terrace, and stairs.

"Mr. Miller! Congratulations on the appeal! What is the stance on the case between the States versus Polit-Enterprises?" A microphone and camera was shoved right into my face the second my foot hit the third step down.

A glance back at my team and I knew we were ready for this. "The case will be heard by the Supreme Court in Washington. The counsel will be addressed tomorrow morning with further details." I was getting excited myself.

"…Carlin! Exclusive for old time's sake?" My attention got diverted by a familiar voice. I glanced at my partner, my best friend since senior year, and nodded with a smile. Of course we'd give Lily Zee an exclusive. She'd been part of our lives since the beginning of this case; sometimes driving us crazy by landing us in hot water, other times dropping our name into prime time news, bringing in new, smaller cases to sustain the business while we were taking on the politicians of the US. It was a good thing to have an investigative reporter on your side. Even better if they were an old friend.

"Mr. Miller! Is it true that you've requested an interdict against the Mayor of Los Angeles? Can you elaborate what it is about?" My heart sank. How on earth did these things get out? Or was Dan Miller just such a low-life that he wanted this kind of publicity? It was true – I had to get a restraining order against him, for harassing my team personally. There were days where he would blatantly follow them home while he was in Frisco for business or whatever other reasons. It made me very uncomfortable that he knew where we all lived, and that we had families.

"I cannot confirm neither deny those allegations at this stage, I'm sorry." I shook my head and pushed through the crowds, eager to get to the office. The only person I wouldn't mind talking to was Lily Zee, but it was already covered. The rest of the reporters had enough answers – they were now just scooping for dirt.

I was happy to finally lay eyes on my car, but the relief I felt for a mere second was replaced by fear tightening its grip around my heart as the sound of gunshots rang through my ears. The chaos that had already ensued was just multiplied – people scattered and ducked everywhere. I followed my instincts and dived behind the first wall I could find. I didn't even know which direction the shots came from – I was probably still exposed, but right now, having something to cover at least one angle was some relief.

My eyes scanned towards the parking lot, but there were only reporters and part of the defense team hiding behind cars. Several bodies were spread out between myself and the parking lot, and I felt nauseous when I recognized familiar faces. They weren't all dead, but all of them did get hit.

I couldn't even try to imagine who would do something like this. My eyes fell on two politicians who were mixed with the other bodies on the ground – and I knew this was something bigger than all of us. The politicians had nothing to do with this attack.

Movement behind me distracted me, and I was suddenly relieved to see some of my own people, unharmed. Shots were still being fired, so I tried to keep calm, and tried to get my team to stay low and unnoticed of moving around. We still couldn't make out where the shots were coming from.

Some of them were completely exposed, and I feared for their lives on behalf of them.

I motioned with a slight movement of my hand, for them to join me behind the wall. Fear had paralyzed me, but adrenalin to keep my people safe had managed to loosen my joints a little.

"Thank God you're all okay," I whispered as a handful of colleagues made it safely. I breathed out a heavy sigh as I realized I didn't have to tell the Carlin family that they've lost a loved one. My whole team was still here.

"It was a bank robbery gone bad" Lily Zee announced in a frantic whisper, dropping down beside me. "The police are on it, they're everywhere and said we must stay down."

My head was spinning with the new information and the safety of my team. The only consolation I had was that the robbers were probably trying to get away so they'd be moving along, and not stay at the courthouse to execute some random attack – even though that's what it already was.

"Just stay down everyone," I instructed, trying to keep calm on behalf of the people so close to me. I was a born leader – I could do this – I could get them through this.

We heard sirens, and more people screaming, it sounded more like the police now, getting through the chaos that was right in front of us. Gunfire had ceased, and leaning just slightly forward, I peeked around the wall, tears stinging my eyes as I watched an army of police take the robbers into custody. It was a welcoming sight. Paramedics filled the scene, rushing towards the wounded reporters and politicians.

"All right, is everybody okay? Anyone hurt?" The main priority now was to get help over here if somebody was hurt. But with confirmation that the group behind me had come out of this unscathed, I finally gave a small smile, unable to contain the sheer relief that suddenly washed over me. I couldn't believe we got out of this untouched. Well, maybe not entirely untouched, I made a mental note to order some counseling for all my staff. And perhaps let them take the rest of the week off before we had to get back to this terrible reality we lived in.

When I spotted two officers walking towards us, I notified them calmly that we were unarmed, and unharmed, carefully uncovering ourselves from behind the wall.

"Everybody's okay – no injuries. Do we need to stay for statements or can I get my people home?" I took the lead for our group.

The two police officers requested us to give our names and then we'd be free to go. I couldn't wait to go home, and just go to my wife and kids. All I wanted was to see their faces and hold them tight.

"Right, go home people. Get some rest, go see someone if need be, and I'll see you back in the office on Monday – not a day sooner. Carlin, I'll call you late –"

There wasn't going to be a later.

I heard screams. I watched faces around me warp, going from almost happiness to complete terror. I realized that my body fell, while the others around me ducked to the ground. We all made it the same time.

Except I wasn't going to be able to get up again.

"C– " The pain in my head was unbearable. I saw a face above me, eyes willing mine to stay open. It lasted only a second, before I felt a force speed past my chest, knocking my best friend down. _No, no, no, no, I promised I'd keep them safe…_

 _"Sean!" "Mr. Miller!"_

The screams were drowning out. I vaguely took note of paramedics hovering above me while they should have taken cover. I wanted to tell them that, it was too late for me, but they still had time.

I opened my mouth, but the words never quite left my lips…

* * *

 **Yes it's fucking political – Skunk Anansie**


	15. Medicine

**A/N: Thank you all for reading and reviewing! I'm posting two chapters – have not been well so trying to get as much done while I can so the wait between updates doesn't feel tooooo long ;)**

 **SonFan – CH14 :** **Thank you so much! I had my doubts about that chapter, but after rereading it several (hundred) times, I'm happy the way it turned out… Wait until you read this one! Thanks for reading and reviewing!**

 **Anjela78 – CH14 : Thank you! Yes it is really different, well for me anyway, but I'm loving the whole process and all the research and just the writing of this story! Have a great day and hope you enjoy the next two chapters!** **Thanks for reading and reviewing!**

 **GirlsOnly – CH14 : Thank you! Not sure if there was a glitch in the review but the last part didn't entirely make sense… Anyway, regardless, thank you so much for reading and reviewing! Hopefully the next chapters will be as interesting ;)**

 **Trmack9 – CH14 : Thank you – you will actually find some answers in this very chapter about how the people are connected – well, the start of it anyway. The pace of the story will change from here on, it won't be too long until Spencer makes her debut ;)** **Thanks for reading and reviewing!**

 **Mellyb14 – CH14 : Thank you! Like I told Trmack9 – from here on there will be some more answers as to how everybody fits in the story – and it will be like that for a whole couple of following chapters. Thank you for reading and reviewing, and enjoy!**

* * *

 **Ashley**

 **Medicine**

Clearly the new course of medication wasn't helping. That, or I was in big trouble. I woke up with a familiar terrifying pain shooting through my head, an undeniably gross clammy skin, a racing heart, and feeling like I was being suffocated in my sleep.

For a brief second I wished someone _was_ trying to suffocate me. Then all of this would be over. And I wouldn't be staring at Fatso, Stinky and Stretch, smiling at me like they were auditioning for _The Ghostly Trio_.

Where the hell did the third one come from?

I closed my eyes, hoping, _praying_ , that I'd just imagined this, or _hallucinated_ as Doctor Carlin put it. But squinting through closed eyelids, the third one was still in my room, leaning against the door frame. He wore a black suit with a white button-up shirt, a black tie slightly loosened around his neck.

"It's not visiting hours," I mumbled, irate that Aiden and Sasha had dishonored our agreement.

"It's not nice to tell on us. But hey, life's not fair now, is it?" Aiden quipped. I really wanted to push him through a window of a ten-story building.

"Hi Ashley, I'm – "

I grimaced. "Sean Miller. I know who you are." And I wasn't happy, at all. Reliving his death was by far the most disturbing. Something bothered me about that day, a little over a year ago. It was the job I had come to San Francisco for. I remembered enjoying the city, but not enjoying the job.

" I'm sorry to hear about your accident, it's good to see you're recovering well. Death is a fearful thing."

 _Why?_ Why did they all apologize to me? "Let me guess… Shakespeare?"

Sean smirked and finally made his way into my room, sending off waves of confidence that someone like Aiden didn't even have. It made me feel a little bit better. Only a little.

"So are you here for Halloween or are you part of the _Ashley-appreciation-group_?"

"You know what to do to make this all go away, Ashley."

I turned to stare at Aiden, propped up on his usual spot – the empty bed next to mine. I wondered what was going to happen when I got discharged in a couple of days – were they all just going to follow me home? Wherever that was? I vaguely recalled that I'd booked an extended-stay suite somewhere in Oakland. I didn't even know how far away from my hotel the hospital was. I didn't know how I was going to get there, or what had happened to the belongings that were on me when I got hit by that car.

"I guess we have to talk about it eventually, don't we?" I sighed, frustrated with the situation. I couldn't wait to go see Doctor Carlin again – he'd be as bummed as I was to know there was an addition to my hallucinations.

But in the meantime, I could humor my _'ghosts'_ and hear them out. It's not like I had anything better to do.

"Are you sure you're ready to hear us out?" Sasha asked, finally finding a channel to watch since the first time she appeared. She had reclaimed her position on the visitor's chair, feet up on the rails of my bed.

Sean chose to stand by the foot point of the bed, as if ready to bolt should anybody walk in. He had a lot to learn…

"Ashley," Aiden started, facing me. "The longer you wait to make a decision and do what is required of you, the more of us you're going to land up with. We're not going away – we can't – unless you send us back."

I groaned. " _More_? What is this, a remake of _Ghostbusters_?"

Aiden ignored my whining. "Your headaches will get worse, and so will the nightmares. It will become more graphic, vivid, painful, and you don't want that Ashley."

"Okay, _okay_ , just tell me what to do," I gave up, exasperated. I stared at the three of them, waiting impatiently for an answer.

Of course, like the leader he thought he was, Aiden cleared his throat. "You have to go after whoever ordered the hits."

It sounded like sweet justice, but I couldn't help but feel nervous about this.

As if reading my mind, Sean spoke up. "It is impossible to suffer without making someone pay for it; every complaint already contains revenge – Nietzsche."

That wasn't even it. I was done with killing people – wouldn't this just throw me into a vicious loop, since _more_ dead people would mean more ghosts? And what about Aiden? I killed him! No-one ordered a hit on him… was I supposed to turn a gun on myself?

Sasha gave a loud sigh. "It's not about revenge, it's about freeing us. We didn't deserve this, Ashley."

Of course they didn't. Sasha was a seventeen year old high school graduate, on her way to college, planning to save the world one person at a time. Sean was an attorney fighting for the population of California, animals and plants included. There were probably many more like them – I couldn't really remember all my hits, but aside from Aiden and Madison, I had to take many innocent, _important_ lives. Just the thought of it made me sick to my stomach.

"The people who ordered the hits won't turn into ghosts, if that was what you were wondering," Aiden confirmed.

That just confused me even more. "Why not? How do you know for sure?"

"You'll just have to trust me on this."

Oh, trust _him_? The last time I trusted Aiden, I ended up killing him! And now he's haunting me in the form of nauseating hallucinations! I couldn't – I just _couldn't_ trust him.

"It's a lot to consider. It won't be easy. We'll give you time to think about it. Coffee?" Aiden got up from the bed, and I knew then I was about to have company. For once I wished they wouldn't know, just so I could figure out if I was even talking out loud to them, or what it looked like for an outsider when I had these hallucinations.

"I'm good, thanks," I finally mumbled, knowing I wouldn't be able to stall them. If they _were_ ghosts, like they claimed, they wouldn't be caught dead in this room with me when someone else was here.

"Tell Chelsea that I'm sorry," Sean said as he followed Aiden and Sasha, turning left as they departed my room.

* * *

"It's like they're multiplying every time I wake up. Whatever this new medication is, it's just making it worse."

Chelsea chuckled and grabbed my file, inspecting the new list of drugs I was on.

"I will talk to Doctor Carlin, maybe the dosages are too high – which can also, believe it or not, cause hallucinations."

That didn't make me feel any better. "Or maybe it's too low?"

Chelsea was sympathetic as she put the file down and sat down next to me on the unmoved visitor's chair. The only person who occupied it was Sasha – and she wasn't even… well, she wasn't exactly all human, if you catch my drift. I tried to avoid saying they were not _real_ , because that just brought on sudden bursts of headaches that my body could not handle.

"The thing with these kind of injuries and medication is, it takes a while to actually start working. I know it must be frustrating and scary for you, but I _do_ promise you that we're doing everything we can to relieve the symptoms for you. Doctor Carlin – Paula – mentioned that you might be discharged by the end of the week. But if you're not ready, I can always talk to them?"

Getting discharged was the best news I've received in a while. I shook my head to decline Doctor Lewis' offer, figuring I'd find a way to get through the whole ghost-thing, with or without the right balance of medication. "No, I'll be okay, really."

"The good thing is, you'll still need to come for a couple of visits, so we can still alter your medication. We just can't monitor it like now," Chelsea smiled. "But I guess we can't keep you here forever – you must be so sick of hospital food."

It _was_ terrible, but I couldn't complain. I was alive, and still safe from the Agency or anybody else looking for me. It even made the gho– _hallucinations_ bearable. "Maybe a little, but I'm glad to be alive. And it was really nice meeting you, and the Carlin doctors, and the night nurse on the high care floor," I admitted.

Chelsea smiled warmly. "It was nice meeting you too, Ashley. You've been a good patient and I enjoyed our little talks."

That was something I was definitely going to miss. "Yeah…" It reminded me of something. Sean's words really bothered me, and I couldn't help but wonder if somebody from Chelsea's past was also in the list of ghosts that was coming to haunt me. "Hey, can I ask you something? A little personal?"

Chelsea frowned but nodded anyway. "Sure?"

"Have you ever lost a loved one?"

The pained look on her face answered my question before she could even formulate an answer. I just hoped that I wasn't the cause, since, you know, I killed quite a lot of people over the past couple of years. Innocent people. Innocent people who were loved by kind people like Chelsea.

"Yeah, uh, my fiancé… " Her voice died in her throat as she held back a sob. Then, with a brave smile, she looked up at me. "His name was Clay. Clay Carlin."

My eyes went wide. The boy in the picture in Doctor Carlin's office? I felt my heart thumping hard against my chest. How did Sean know? Did he know Clay? Or Chelsea? And if he knew them, did I really –

"Yes, it was the Carlins' son – adopted son. He was such an amazing guy." I noticed her right hand reach out to her ring finger on the left, smoothing over where an engagement ring was supposed to be.

My heart sank. Was this my punishment? Aiden's revenge on me for killing him? Or Madison? Was I really such a cold-hearted killer, who killed the doctors' son? The very people who saved _me_?

Chelsea didn't seem to notice my guilt, and just continued. "We grew up together, well, since high school anyway. The Carlin family moved from Ohio to LA, and then here to Frisco. A whole bunch of us just decided, strangely, that Frisco was better to build careers and lives and families, so it was like a mass exodus really." She smiled faintly at the memory, as if she relived the better days. The days when her husband-to-be was still in the picture. I could imagine them together as a family, a little one running around happily.

But that thought pained me, probably not as much as Chelsea, but it was still painful.

I did this to people. I tore families apart. I took away loved ones. And those loved ones came back and apologized to _me_ for getting hurt, which I still found hard to grasp. All they were asking from me was to set them free.

Was it really that difficult to do?

Maybe the question should be, how real _were_ they, and was I really going to kill more people because ghosts told me to?

Looking up at Chelsea, and recognizing the pain in her eyes, I knew the answer already. Ghosts or no ghosts, I needed to right my wrongs. _Somebody_ had to be held accountable, right?

And if it wasn't me, then the only other option was to go after the people who took out the contracts in the first place.

I sighed, trying to force my attention back to Chelsea, who was still going on about the great guy Clay Carlin was – until finally her pager went off.

"Oh, I need to get going. I'll come by tomorrow morning to check on you?" she offered with a hopeful smile.

Maybe, like me, she also just needed someone to talk to. "That would be great."

"Hold on in there, Ashley, it will get better."

I couldn't promise her the same, but maybe at some stage I could offer Chelsea and the Carlins some closure…

* * *

 **Medicine - Daughter**


	16. The Messenger

**Kyla**

 **The Messenger**

It's been ten days. Ten long days of waiting for Ashley Davies' mother to phone me. It was pathetic, really, how this woman just didn't give a damn. I'd gone to LA and came back to New York with nothing but a half-filed police report and nothing else on the file. There was little progress – no one seemed to care that a person had disappeared off the face of the earth. Except me. I cared. And sometimes I wished I didn't, I wished I could move on with my life and settle down and just not _worry_ all the time. But that's what I did – I worried. About something I couldn't possibly change. About someone I'd probably never find. I just couldn't help myself – none of this made sense.

I checked my phone for the umpteenth time, wishing Debbie had planned my month better. Ever since I came back she'd been acting different around me, as if she had to walk on egg-shells. There was nothing for her to worry about – I'd found absolutely nothing. Going to my father's grave was somewhat consoling, but still it didn't change anything. So here I was, sitting with nothing but time on my hands in a packed coffee shop while I waited for five o' clock to roll in. I couldn't wait to teach the advanced yoga class – it still required some concentration from my side, I was hoping it could take my mind off things for a while.

 _Bzzz-Bzzz_

I stared down at my phone, trying to decipher the unknown number – it was definitely not a New York code. With a sigh I picked up, really not feeling it today.

"Hello?"

 _"Kyla Woods?"_ The female voice sounded so sure of herself I wondered why she was even asking.

"Speaking." I couldn't help but roll my eyes, even if the stranger couldn't see it.

 _"Kyla, this is Christine Davies, Ashley Davies' mother."_

My heart stopped. This was unexpected. Very unexpected. By the time I found my voice I almost went off on her for phoning too late because I was already back in New York.

"Uh, hi Mrs. Davies."

I couldn't even remember why I'd wanted to see her to start with.

 _"You wanted to meet up with me? Are you still in Los Angeles?"_

Not even an apology. I hated this woman. "No, I uh, I'm back in New York. But it doesn't matter anymore – I couldn't find anything new anyway."

She sounded surprised _. "Oh, you're still trying to find Ashley, then?"_

"You're _not_?" God, what was wrong with this woman!

She chuckled sarcastically. _"Oh, dear, if I had to waste all these years scurrying around to try and find a teenager I'd be full of wrinkles and gray hair by now."_

I was ready to explode. It really took everything out of me not to scream at this heartless lady through my phone in this busy coffee shop in the middle of New York City.

She took my silent grunt fairly well. _"Look, I can't say I understand why you're still trying to find her after all these years. But if you're willing to make another trip down to LA I can find some time in my schedule to meet up with you and tell you whatever you want to know. Not that there's much that hasn't been in the tabloids thanks to her worthless piece of shit of a father."_

White spots ignited at the back of my eyes. My body temperature went up a couple of degrees, and I was sure I was panting for breath. Maybe it was full moon and I was turning into a werewolf. If only – then I'd find Christine Davies and tear her apart, limb from limb. I was _so_ angry right now I could probably do it with my bare hands too.

I wasn't thinking straight. "Are you free tomorrow?" If anything, I just wanted to meet this lady once and for all and give her a good, hard slap across the face.

 _"You're going to get on a plane tonight?"_ she taunted.

"If that's what it takes, yes."

 _"Fine then, I'll clear my schedule. You can come to my house, I'll text you the address. Good bye, Ms Woods."_

And just like that, she ended the call.

Christine Davies was _so_ going to regret meeting me in the morning…

* * *

 _"You're where?!"_

"Look, Debbie, if I told you last night you would have tried to stop me. I had to do this. I'm really sorry – just tell my classes there was a family emergency."

 _"Kyla, two weeks ago you had a family emergency – for a week! I can't tell them the same thing again!"_

I walked through the baggage claim area, relieved not to have to be waiting for any luggage. I clutched my phone between my shoulder and ear, ruffling through my small backpack to find the Davies' address I'd scribbled down on a piece of paper. I couldn't get a ticket to leave at night like I wanted to, so I was left taking the earliest morning flight, leaving me somewhat jittery after very little sleep. But I didn't care, and I definitely didn't care about Debbie's rambling right now. I had a meeting with the devil, and there was no way she was getting out of this or getting rid of me until I had at least something more on Ashley Davies than an old photo-album and a one-page police file. There had to be more, there just _had_ to be.

"I'll be back tomorrow, Deb, I need to go now. Please give my sincerest apologies."

I wasn't exactly thrilled to be back in LA, my visit two weeks ago wasn't that pleasant. I recalled the incident with the car-rental company, and then landing up on a crime scene where the alleged killers of the Mayor's daughter had stolen a car. Apparently they'd found one of the killers dead, but there was another on the run.

I hated LA.

They'd probably never even find that gunman – the same way they never bothered to find Ashley. As much as I had sympathy for the Mayor, I really blamed him for everything. I'd heard the stories, read the papers, watched the news. He wasn't exactly an innocent man. It was just really sad and unfortunate that his young daughter had to lose her life because of him. I couldn't even begin to imagine how the mother must have felt.

Hopefully more grief-stricken than the cold-hearted Christine Davies.

I flagged down a cab and jumped in, handing the driver the address. I had so many questions, so many things I wanted to say to this cruel woman. But I had to be careful with my temper, or else she'd not answer anything and I'd find my ass back on the street.

I wished I had some time to do a couple of yoga stretches, just to get the worst tension out of my body. Not really a believer in medication, I wasn't prepared to buy calmatives to handle this amicably. Maybe Christine _needed_ me to bitch slap her. Maybe _then_ she'd realize that she had lost her daughter.

"Ma'am? We're here…"

I shook my head and pulled myself back into reality, swallowing hard as I stared at the fairly big property in front of me. This lady was well off… couldn't she even pay a private investigator to try and find out what had happened – even if she didn't care?

I pushed some money towards the cab driver and jumped out, feeling worked up already. It was going to be a long day…

"Ms Woods? Come on in." I stared at the help who'd opened the front door, not really surprised that it wasn't Christine.

"Thanks." I stepped inside, feeling small in the foyer of this mansion as I turned in circles, taking it all in. At least Ashley lived in comfort – when she had the chance. Hopefully she took full advantage of it.

 _Oh, God, Kyla stop it._

"You must be Kyla."

I spun around at the sound of the familiar voice, and stared at the designer-clad Christine Davies. Despite it being hot in LA, Christine was dressed in a ridiculous fur coat, covering tanned legs, a short mini-skirt, and a strange shirt of sorts. It screamed labels.

Of course it did. While my father lived his dream she lived off his money.

"Christine, nice to finally meet you." I stretched out my hand to formally greet her, but was met by a 'don't-be-ridiculous'-look.

Well then…

"Let's go to the patio outside, nice Cali weather, isn't it? I bet it's freezing in New York right now."

It _was_ freezing – it was winter, and it snowed. And it was beautiful. So Christine could keep her smug remarks to herself. Not everybody loved the seasonless State of California.

"Elsa, some tea please. Kyla? Tea?"

I nodded and followed Christine out into the morning sun. It was blissful, but not enough to still my hateful feelings towards this woman.

"So… how is your mother?" Tactless, I tell you, fucking tactless.

She didn't even _know_ my mother.

"She's good, thanks."

Christine sighed and sat back in her chair, sliding her sunglasses over her eyes. I couldn't decide if she did that to hide her eyes from the sun or me. I was probably throwing daggers with my own.

"So what can I tell you about Ashley? That's why you came, right? I don't have any information about her case – I'm pretty sure after all these years there's not even a file anymore."

Bile rose up in my throat, but I pushed it down, trying hard to keep calm. "Can you tell me about her? I mean, when she grew up? What was she like?"

Let's try meek and subtle. I'd leave the accusations for later.

"Well, Ashley was like any teenager who grew up in this part of LA. Spoilt, ill-mannered, and ill-tempered – just like her father."

"He was my father too," I defended him without even thinking.

"Well, then, you'll know exactly what I'm talking about. Tell me, Kyla, does your mother also allow you to go to parties in the middle of the week, come home drunk every night, or with drugs, and let me not forget, the girls. Endless girls who'd stolen money, Valium, credit cards, there was even one who'd decided she'd move in!"

If Christine wasn't such a terrible mother, maybe Ashley wouldn't have done these things. I found it quite interesting that my half-sister was into girls. The few photographs I've seen of her, she was very pretty. I wondered why she liked girls… I could understand why _they_ liked _her_!

"Anyway, that was high-school. When she was younger I guess she had more manners. I don't know, I can't really remember my life's greatest disappointments."

My heart sank. I wasn't going to get anything out of this woman – nothing that could bring me closer to my half-sister. If there was any chance that she'd survived, _wherever_ she was, her skills were not going to be validated by her own mother.

"You can go have a look around in her room if you want – there's really not much I can tell you, other than you already know."

I felt so heartbroken for Ashley. "What about the night of her disappearance? When did you realize that she was gone?"

Christine sighed, loud enough for me to hear. It was clear she thought she had better things to do with her time. "She went to prom, all dressed up. I was actually quite surprised, Ashley was rebellious, and school events and prom wasn't her thing. She just never came back. Of course, I thought she went to some ditzy hotel like teenagers do after prom. But then people started looking for her the next morning, and I realized it sounded a little off."

"Didn't she have a date or anyone who would've known if she maybe ran away or something?"

"Ashley wasn't into dates and that kind of thing. She slept around, a lot, like I mentioned before. Just like her fath – "

I was _so_ close to slapping her. "Okay, I _get_ it."

"Why do you care so much to find her? Doesn't it bother you that your own father _whored_ around, creating little offspring wherever he toured around? I'm pretty sure if you put as much effort as you had in to find Ashley, you'd find a handful of other, much more decent siblings."

I stared open-mouthed at the woman in front of me. How could she even _say_ things like that? "Ashley is your _daughter_ , don't you care about her at all?"

Christine gave a laugh _so_ cold and empty it nearly froze my veins. "Oh, Kyla… Ashley was just… a mistake. An untimely mistake that ruined so many opportunities for me. And then Raife went and ruined me even more – sleeping around, touring the world, leaving me to deal with _his_ doing all by myself. And to top it all, after _everything_ I had put up with and done for her, she decided to turn gay. She ruined me completely. So, my dear, if you ever find your beloved Ashley, ask her if _she_ didn't care at all."

I fought hard to fight back tears. I started wondering if Ashley didn't maybe run away, and was happier wherever she was. Anywhere but here had to be better, right?

"Let me go show you her room, I need to rush off to another appointment."

* * *

My heart broke all over again.

I stared in awe at what used to be Ashley's room back when she was seventeen. Untouched, thank goodness for Christine not caring at all, I could picture the missing girl lying on her bed, watching TV, or even in the corner with her musical instruments, composing a song. It was captivating, all of it. The back of her door was covered with hundreds of photos of Ashley and friends. It warmed my heart to know she wasn't entirely the loner some people had made her out to be. Purple Venom posters covered most of the walls – it was from our father's band. Her walk-in closet door resembled her room door – covered fully with even more photographs. One of the walls had a huge graffiti scribble on it. There was a drum set, a keyboard, an acoustic and electric guitar, and an amplifier laid out neatly in what I guessed was her musical spot. A couple of feet away sported a couch entirely hidden underneath pillows. Even her bed had a couple of pillows too many.

I loved her room, it was as if I could feel her in here. Everything just screamed Ashley – even though I didn't know her. It just felt good to get to see a side of her that I never would have thought was possible.

It made me incredibly sad.

I wasn't sure if Christine would like me snooping around, but I soon found myself looking through drawers, boxes, her closet, even her bathroom, to just find anything – _anything_ that could give me any clues about her whereabouts. But I realized that my frantic search was futile – I discovered her toothbrush, hairbrush, and other personal items you'd think to take with if you were running away.

 _Ashley Davies, where the hell are you?_

* * *

It was an exhausting day, and I was happy to be at the airport and on my way back to New York. It might be freezing back home, but I've never felt cold as bad as I had in Christine Davies' house.

With only a handful of items I've managed to snatch from Ashley's room, I felt more and more desolate in my case of finding her. I wondered if it wasn't maybe time to let go.

Though I've been through that thought-process before, trying to give up, it's never been as bad as now where it felt like I was running out of hope.

And I've been trying so hard _not_ to lose hope.

Maybe meeting Christine was a big mistake… or maybe it _had_ to happen so I could finally give it a rest.

 _"Final boarding call, flight P120-H, Los Angeles to New York. Final boarding call, gate B9."_

I sighed and glanced down at the hardcover notebook that I've been clutching tightly against my chest since I left the Davies' house. It was Ashley's music book – she had written so many songs. I'd only managed to get through one and the tears were already flowing. So I decided to _borrow_ it – not that Christine would ever know anyway. I doubted that she even knew that Ashley had a photograph of her and Raife, with a toddler Ashley, hidden carefully between the hordes of friends' faces on her door. I took that too. I felt terrible about it – maybe Christine did know it was there – but it was too late to take it back now. I never wanted to set foot in that house ever again. Unless it was to slap Christine. Which I also didn't get a chance to do – the bitch disappeared as soon as I went up to Ashley's room.

I felt my phone vibrate in my pocket and cursed the timing. If I answered now I couldn't board the plane. I hoped it was Debbie just making sure I was on my way back.

But when it stopped, and then started vibrating again, I couldn't help but wonder who was looking for me so urgently.

I fished for my phone and flipped it open hastily, hoping it would just be a quick conversation – I really needed to get onto that plane and get out of LA. It was time to let go.

"Hello?"

 _"Hi, is this Kyla Woods?"_

"Speaking."

 _"Miss Woods, this is detective Carlin from the Los Angeles Police Department, I'm phoning regarding your inquiry about a missing person, Ashley Davies…"_

* * *

 **The Messenger – Linkin Park**


	17. Not an Addict

**A/N : Thank you for all the exciting and wonderful reviews, and for reading this crazy story of mine, it is much appreciated! Please be forewarned that there is some mention of using (and maybe abusing) medication – do not try this at home! The story is purely fictional!**

* * *

 **Esty31 – CH16 : My lips are sealed about the mysterious Detective Carlin – you'll just have to read to find out! Thank you for reading and reviewing!**

 **Anjela78 – CH16 : I enjoy reading your reviews! I'm so glad you like Kyla's character, she's got an important role in this fic, and it makes me happy that people like her! Detective Carlin… I can't reveal anything there – the story will do that for you in due time! I wish I could update immediately, but I'm no ghost with superpowers either ;) Have a great day and week! Thank you for reading and reviewing!**

 **SonFan – CH16 :** **All your questions will be answered… within the confines of the next 64 chapters ;) Soon… I don't mean to drag it out, but there's just too much story and millions of ideas to not do it! Thanks for reading and reviewing!**

 **Mellyb14 – CH16 :** **Thank you so much for the compliment! With the introduction of new characters their parts in the story will also soon come to light – and answer your question about Chelsea and Sean :) Kyla's inquiry will be dealt with in due time… by Detective Carlin… who may or may not be Spencer ;) Thanks for reading and reviewing!**

 **TheDWall – CH16 : Hahaha I knew that last part would stir some great reaction and get some questioning – almost feels like I'm being interrogated to find out where Spencer is! Stay on the edge of your seat – things will happen soon! Thanks for reading and reviewing!**

 **GirlsOnly – CH15 :** **I'm glad you're understanding Ashley's internal conflict – because it is so important in this fic! Thanks for reading and reviewing!**

 **GirlsOnly – CH16 : As the story progresses, I hope it will stay interesting and keep people coming back for more! I can't reveal anything about the Detective – you'll just have to keep on reading! Lol, I think Kyla was good for Ashley in SON (except where everything went crazy with the clubbing and singing) – so I wanted to give her good, caring side a shot in the fic – glad you like it!**

* * *

 **Ashley**

 **Not an Addict**

I had gained so much respect for doctors, paramedics, the police – even though I avoided the police at all cost. As a unit, these people have ensured that I had a place to go back to, my fake ID was kept safe together with the money and hotel key I had on me when I got struck by that car. A helpful police officer had contacted the hotel to inquire about my room – which luckily had been prepaid up front for a month – and made sure that everything was as I left it when I finally got discharged.

I had a cab waiting for me as Chelsea wheeled me towards the reception area. I didn't know why they insisted I get taken to the cab with a wheelchair – with all the therapy and rehab I was fine to walk on my own. My ribs were still incredibly sore, so was my head, but nothing I couldn't handle outside of hospital.

The drive was short, the hospital was surprisingly close to the hotel I was staying at. I found it comforting, knowing the Carlin Doctors and Chelsea was close by. The room was just as I left it, neat, clean, and all my belongings were still safely locked away.

It's been twenty one days since I got run down. They say it takes twenty one days to break a habit. As I stared at the components of my sniper rifle, I couldn't help but feel a slight longing. It was alarming to feel that way – did I actually miss killing people? I wasn't entirely sure – maybe it was just the fact that it was a part of me that I knew. Without the killing, I had no idea who I was. I had no idea what kind of things would trigger my interests, what would make me happy, or what would make me scream.

So I didn't only go home to an unfamiliar place, I also went home being an unfamiliar person to myself.

The only comfort I had were my loyal visitors. They couldn't grasp visiting hours back at the hospital, and being in a place where they wouldn't be interrupted by doctors and nurses, they just made themselves right at home in my suite.

I didn't know whether to laugh or cry. Did that mean I was constantly hallucinating, or were they actually here, haunting me?

I'd never thought being haunted by a ghost would be so exhausting. They didn't scare me in the least, but God, they were annoying. Especially Aiden.

"I'm glad to see you still know how to assemble that thing. You'll need to work on your pace though. If you take on this job, things will be different. There won't be time to think."

I haven't really agreed to my… _friends_ , that I was going to do this. But deep down I knew I had to do _something_. If not to make them disappear, at least then for Chelsea Lewis and the Carlins. I still didn't know if I was the one who killed their son, but I knew people like Sasha's mother would find solace in closure, and probably Sean's family and parents too. He had a wife and kids… I owed it to them.

"Are you going to help me?" I asked Aiden, suddenly very unsure of myself. If I was going to do this, I would need all the help I could get, whether he was really a ghost or not.

"I can only help you up to a certain extent. It won't be like we used to do it. I can't be your guide or analyst. We can only provide you with information that we know up to the day we died."

I sighed and closed my eyes in frustration. What was I even thinking? Killing more people? It didn't matter how terrible they were, was I really up to this? How was I going to live with myself?

I stared at the now assembled rifle, slightly shaking in my unsteady hands. I was addicted to the feeling of familiarity, but I was scared to death.

"Where do I even start? And with whom?" The questions weren't to start working on a plan. I just needed to get these thoughts out of my head.

Aiden welcomed it, though. "I can't answer that for you, but I believe when you're ready, _really_ ready, you'll know."

I looked up and stared at him. He had taken up one of the plush couches in my temporary home, not getting up from it unless it was really necessary. Sasha was glued to the TV screen – typical teenager, and Sean had laid claim on the reclining chair, nose buried in the daily newspapers I bought.

"Do you guys really have nothing else to do? Isn't there someone else you can… _haunt_ for a while?" My frustration was evident, I realized, as they looked up at once, staring back at me.

What? I needed some alone time!

"If someone else killed us, maybe," Sasha dropped sarcastically. I've never heard her talk like this before. It stung.

I opened and closed my mouth, not knowing what to say to that. It was the blatant truth, but it hurt.

"Okay well, I'm going to go take a nap," I finally decided. But I wasn't only going to take a nap – I was going to try and alter my medication dosage myself. If my _friends_ weren't gone by the time I woke up, Doctor Carlin seriously needed to rethink the course I was on. And I would tell him exactly that when I saw him later in the week.

* * *

I was fixated on the black and white family portrait. I stared at Clay, trying to remember his face, trying to go through the little bit of memory I had, desperately hoping I wouldn't recognize him as one of my jobs.

After staring for an unknown amount of time, which I was sure would seem odd to bystanders, I finally shifted my gaze to the rest of the family members. While Arthur Carlin had black hair, his wife and other two kids sported blonde hair. The boy, who looked about Clay's age, had a goofy looking smile, while the girl, obviously a year or two – maybe three – younger than her brothers, stared at the camera with her head tilted slightly, her eyes wide and one eyebrow arching in a cute way. They looked so happy.

"Ashley, good to see you out of that hospital gown! Finally going to try out my couch today?" Arthur joked as he came in through the side door. His eyes fell on the photo I was staring at, and with a sad smile he ushered me towards the couch.

"You have a beautiful family," I offered shyly at being caught out staring. I wasn't going to mention that I knew about Clay.

Arthur returned the smile, his eyes shimmering – I was pretty sure it was with tears. Clay's death must have been very hard on them. I wondered how old their kids were.

"Thank you Ashley. So, shall we start?" Arthur was eager to avoid talking about his family. It made me sad – they shouldn't have to be feeling that kind of pain.

I nodded, sighed, and dropped my head in my hands. "The medication is not working. The hallucinations are getting worse, Doctor C."

Arthur frowned. "Worse? Are there more people now? Or is it the frequency? Can you elaborate a bit more?"

I sank back into the comfortable couch, suddenly feeling like they had cheated me out of coziness while I had to sit in that wheelchair everytime I had sessions with Doctor Carlin. I could _so_ live on this couch!

"No new people, but it's like they're permanently around me. Everything feels normal, except for them being there. And the headaches are kind of painful – worse than when I was still in here."

Arthur nodded while he was listening, occasionally taking notes. "And tell me, have you been getting enough rest? Remember that you've been through quite an experience Ashley, your body still needs a lot of time to heal and adjust."

I thought about it for a moment. I _did_ sleep a lot. But only because I didn't want to deal with the ghosts lounging around in my suite. It was unnerving.

"Yeah, I mean, except for getting the paper every morning and taking walks in the afternoons, I'm pretty much in bed. I'm following the diet your wife had suggested, I'm doing everything as you instructed."

Doctor Carlin was deep in thought for a couple of minutes, and finally looked up at me. "Okay, here's what we're going to do. I'm going to send you down to Pathology with a script, they'll draw some blood to do an analysis of the medication levels you're taking. We'll see from there if we need adjustments. In the meantime, I'm going to replace your headache prescription with something else, it might also help reduce the hallucinations." I watched as he got up and left the room briefly to his office – through the side door he always came in from.

Moments later he returned with two script pads and filled it in with instructions.

I couldn't help but feel grateful towards him – he'd been so patient and trying everything to help me – it would break me if I was the one who killed Clay. I would never be able to come back here. I wouldn't be able to look the Carlins or Chelsea in the eyes. While at the same time, if I _did_ kill Clay, I needed to do everything I could to bring the people who ordered the hit to justice. It was the least I could do. I haven't thought as far as how I would ever tell them I was responsible, or that someone was paying for his death. Ultimately it would have to be me. But I was just not ready for that yet.

And until Clay _didn't_ appear as hallucination, or… _ghost_ , I still had time to figure things out. Or push it to the back of my mind and hope it would go away. Both options were equally shameless.

* * *

Although part of me screamed to get out and exercise my limbs, and start getting my life together, I couldn't help but bask in the delirious state the new headache medication put me in. I was on a high. A couple of them could easily kill someone.

I didn't want to die, but taking one more than prescribed, it took me to a safe, happy place. I was in a world where reality and delusion was separated by only a fine line. It was like stubbing your toe but laughing about it. Taking a life but feeling happy. Talking to ghosts but loving it.

It was a dangerous place to be in, but I didn't care. It took away the depressing thoughts, the anxiety of having to make decisions, and sometimes it even removed the ghosts from my suite. Those were the best moments. Those were moments when I felt free and relieved and almost, _almost_ , wanted to scream happily that they weren't ever real. But I was scared of that word. Despite the throbbing pain disappearing with the medication, I wasn't sure if it would help to soothe the stabbing pain that simple word caused.

It was frustrating, but avoidable. As long as I didn't say anything, there weren't any consequences.

Consequences…

I'd come to hate that word too. Everything I'd been doing so far – that I could remember anyway – had consequences. _Bad_ ones. I picked up my rifle, wondering what the consequences would be if I tried to take a shot at one of my ghosts. Would they die again? Or would the bullet go right through them? They looked normal – except for an annoying perfection; flawless skin, perfect hair, neatly dressed – but they probably had some superpowers. I was sure they could walk through walls and even maybe fly.

Being in this state wasn't safe – especially not holding my rifle with shaking hands. But it was another one of those moments where I didn't care.

The rifle made me feel safe – it reminded me of someone I once was. Even though I was a terrible person, I longed to be _something_. And if I was destined to use this rifle until the day I died, then so be it. But at least I was someone – not a lonely soul who had no idea where I fit in this scary world.

Every time the medication started wearing off, I'd eat, and just take more. The dependence was scary, but I was convinced it was working now like it should have in the first place.

The ghosts were gone.

My nightmare was finally over.

* * *

 **Not an Addict – K's Choice**


	18. I can't be with you

**Boz**

 **I can't be with you**

I hated that we took walks in the park under these circumstances. It was quite ironic, actually, that before all of this happened, and probably if it ever cleared up, we never stepped outside in winter. We never appreciated the crisp, fresh air of New York. To be fair, Tucker was only two years old, and a lot had happened the past twenty four months. Add nine months to that while Tracy was carrying, and you'd almost say the three years we'd been living in New York had been utter chaos.

My promotion came out of the blue – I was situated at Weston & Partners in Los Angeles as an auditor. They must have been impressed with my work, because they recommended me to Paterson & Hughes on Wall Street in New York – as a senior forensic auditor. I knew Paterson & Hughes had a vast political wing – and that's where they assigned me to. I was nervous, to say the least. But for the first year my job was a dream. I earned real good money, Tracy had just gotten pregnant, and we managed to secure a loan and put down a deposit for a decent sized apartment. Nothing fancy, it was just big enough for our soon-to-be family of three.

I remembered the day when I got home from work; Tracy was already busy cooking dinner – she was a substitute teacher so she only worked certain days – and had set the table with a white cloth, candles, a handful of rose petals, and neatly in a little box on my empty plate: a positive pregnancy test.

She was glowing. I haven't seen her smile like that since we tackled the big move from Los Angeles to New York. When I returned the smile she jumped into my arms, tears wetting my shoulder as she cried from happiness.

It was all we ever wanted – a home, at least one secure job, and our own little family.

We were both ecstatic.

But things soon changed; on Thanksgiving, right after Tucker was born, we took a trip down to LA to visit my family. It was a festive affair, until Sean, my cousin and very close friend, pulled me aside and told me about the case they were working on in San Francisco. A case that had made headlines all over the world. A case that I was indirectly involved in – or my company at least. It was nauseating, and scary. What they were doing went against my morals. So when Sean asked me to do some snooping, I didn't even think twice about the repercussions of trying to expose politicians.

Back in New York I'd turned into a nervous wreck. For a year I pushed information to Sean, until they finally had substantial evidence to take Polit-Enterprises to court. It was a company run entirely by politicians all over the US. They had taken over islands – nature reserves, heritage sites, and even beaches all over California, to push forward with gas extraction sites, manufacturing sites, and even more mining. The outcome was horrific. Pollution into rivers, pollution into the ocean, and on the islands they got away with everything. Environmental lawyers were pulled in but hardly succeeded – they were politicians after all – known for playing dirty. Nobody could stop them. The damage was already done – people were getting sick, animals died, plant life became non-existent in certain areas.

The defense claimed it was job creation for thousands of people – hundreds of thousands actually – and development was crucial for California. They had so many slick reasons for what they were doing, it was sickening. Law firms were terrified, judges threw the cases out in fear of losing their jobs and the safety of their families, and it appeared the White House just turned a blind eye.

Until Sean and his team jumped in. They started with paper pushing on the case as interns. Soon the company they worked for was one of those who had to back out. So Sean and his team quit – and he started his own firm, taking on small cases to carry the company while they fought day after day to get ahead with the case against the politicians.

There were times when he phoned me, in tears, wanting to give up. Although I was far away, and a wreck myself because I'd lose my job and things could go very bad for us, I kept encouraging him to continue. I knew my cousin – he would win. He always did. They worked extremely hard until finally, a year ago, they'd turned the case around from being thrown out of court, to win an appeal and taking the case to Washington DC. It was their big break – even if they didn't win the case, the White House would finally be aware of the huge impact of what was being done, and since it made international news they would be forced to do something about it. I was so proud of my cousin.

Sadly, on that very same day, as they exited the court, everybody got caught up in crossfire between the police and bank robbers. Sean was shot and killed. Two other team members, several reporters, and a handful of the defense team followed the same fate as him.

It was a very sad day for our family.

Thereafter the politicians had moved swiftly, managed to manipulate and torment Sean's office staff, and laid claim on all the evidence and confidential documentation accumulated over the years to win the case. And they started going after everybody.

I was in big trouble. Of course they were going to find out who had supplied confidential financial information right from the offices of Paterson & Hughes. It was only a matter of time.

So we've been living in fear, having heard stories of people who were killed because they were allegedly linked to the case. The rumors were the worst – we didn't know what to believe. In the meantime, I'd come across even more discerning information and paperwork while auditing the politicians, and it put me in direct danger of being disposed of – unless I got to the FBI or CIA first. I knew the police would never be able to help – the politicians were too powerful over them.

So here we were, taking a walk in the park during my coffee break, looking like a normal family enjoying spending time together, while actually trying to work on a plan to get out of New York, and out of harm's way. We'd been doing the same thing for the past three weeks, afraid to talk in our apartment – in case it was somehow bugged, you never know – just letting Tucker play in the small park's sandbox while Tracy and I strategized.

I liked this park – it was close to our apartment, thus convenient for Tracy and Tucker to meet me here. It wasn't big, the snow-covered sidewalk spread into infinity, while a white bank of previously green grass covered a couple of feet of ground; benches scattered around, a small jungle gym and sandbox not far from the walkway. Tucker had come to love this park too.

"Boz, we can't make the trip down to LA, the timing… and school… it's just not financially possible. I know it's the anniversary of Sean's death, but baby we can't."

I was frustrated. Why couldn't she just trust me to get them safely out of this? All I wanted to do was get my wife and son out of this mess. But my patience was running thin. "Damn it, Tracy! I told you this weeks ago! You know how things are at work right now – if they suspect anything – I can't just cancel the plans. We have to keep on going as if things are normal. We _have_ to go to LA. "

"Keep your voice down, Boz."

It wasn't my intention to raise my voice. I loved my wife – and I never wanted her to be scared of me. But I knew in the emptiness of the park, my voice probably reverberated quite loudly. I sighed and covered my face with mitten-covered hands, not quite feeling like it was keeping the cold from seeping through. Not even the over sized brown parka jacket over my suit did the trick. It was a cold day. _Freezing_. But it was refreshing, and beautiful.

"Take him home, Tracy, and just follow the plan." I gestured towards Tucker, knowing it was almost time for me to go anyway. I didn't want them to spend unnecessary time out in this cold.

Tracy closed her eyes for a brief moment, and when she opened them again, I could see the tears glistening. It broke my heart. "I can't do this anymore, Boz. Can't we just go somewhere else?"

I wished we could, but the time wasn't right. I had to get the FBI or CIA on board. "Trace, baby, I told you, they'd figure it out. They'll find us."

"What if you go to the police – " I knew she was desperate to feel safe again.

"Tracy, stop. We've been over this a million times. Stick to the plan. Everything will happen as it should. You need to trust me on this." I cupped her chin, holding her gaze, hoping she would believe me that we would make it out of New York safely. Paterson & Hughes were in a very compromised position – they just didn't know it yet. It was up to me to hold onto the paperwork for just a little longer, until I could get the right people on my side.

Tracy finally gave a weak smile – it was all I needed. "I do trust you, Boz. I'm just so scared – for you, baby."

"We're going to be okay, baby. I'll always be here with you, never forget that." I took Tracy's own mitten-covered hands into mine, squeezing tightly to give her all the reassurance I could. Over her shoulder, my eyes fell on Tucker who was playing happily in a mixture of sand and snow. It was time to get him out of the cold.

I let go of my wife's hands and turned to go pick up our son, but facing the street for a split second, something abruptly penetrated my skull painfully. It was over before I even realized what had happened. My knees gave in and I could faintly make out a terrifying scream before I closed my eyes, the freezing snow on my back not even enough take my mind off the odd feeling on my forehead and even worse, at the back of my head.

Blinding white spots appeared behind my closed eyelids, and I smiled. I was sure it was a moment where my life – happy memories of my wife and son – flashed before my eyes.

It was the last thing I remembered before I succumbed into a silent abyss.

* * *

 **I can't be with you – The Cranberries**


	19. Hurricane

**A/N : I was blown away by all the reviews – WOW! And it's so strange, I'm getting amazing feedback on the chapters I least expected! Thank you all so, so much for your support of this fic and waiting patiently for updates and for progress going forward! To all my readers – THANK YOU!**

 **There's a whole lot of reviews and my responses are long, so feel free to scroll down and skip to the fic; the chapter itself is slightly longer than normal just to make up for it!**

* * *

 **Guest – CH17 : Ashley is confused herself about the ghosts/hallucinations. Medically, they believe it is hallucinations, because well, scientifically it's what it is to the doctors. But… according the** ** _friends_** **, they are ghosts. It's an internal struggle for Ashley and it's very important in the fic. Some clarity about it will actually come in the following chapter. Thanks for reading despite the confusion, it's not my intention to confuse people but it's the way the story is supposed to be. Thanks for reading and reviewing!**

 **GirlsOnly – CH18 : Thank you! I'm glad you're getting what I'm doing there! There's a clear pattern and when people check carefully they'll understand it so much better. I don't want to ruin it though, so all I can say is awesome for picking it up! I wish I could update more often, but as it is I'm already writing at random hours to get more out there – to get my thoughts and ideas onto paper in a structured manner is as edgy as it is for my readers to wait for the next chapters and figuring out what's going on! Thanks for reading and reviewing!**

 **Anjela78 – CH17 : Aaah, my response to you could almost be a book on its own ;) I love the fact that you got the thing about the music – it really does help me to set the mood, in fact, every time I start a new chapter I reread the lyrics to make sure what I write stays relevant! It kindof helps with the storyline! And I'm ECSTATIC, I know this might sound very weird, but when people cry and get emotional because of words and music and what the mind imagine and the heart feels when they listen to something, then I feel like I've accomplished something. Audio and visual combined is a very powerful thing. The thing about Ashley and being an assassin… the mystery around that will be revealed in the fic, I won't let the history and reasons hang in the air ;) I appreciate that you're not a supporter of her being on the wrong side of the law, but she's got a good heart, and she will figure things out with the help of the lovely Spencer Carlin who had still need to make her appearance ;) And you got something on the Carlin thing – yes I did that for a reason! I don't want you to know which Carlin I'm talking about until the time is right ;) Thank you so much for the compliments on my writing, it makes me smile when people get excited when there's an update. Not a lot of people like Aiden, he'll always be the villain because he came between Spashley in SON. But give him some credit – he's there for us to make fun of!** CH18 : **When you said that you abandoned all your responsibilities to read the new chapter I literally went "aaaaaw"! That really means a lot! I know Ashley's job is sickening – but remember that she never knew why she had to kill these people! She feared for her life as much as the next person, because disobeying the Agency could mean her own end. I'm not trying to sugarcoat her actions, it was still wrong (considering how Boz died and the reasons behind it) – but justice will prevail, don't worry ;) I wish I could update every night and every morning, but to deliver reasonable writing it requires a bit more time to over think everything I write and analyze it and judge it until it sits well. And still I overlook spelling and grammar errors! I can't promise a lot of updates during the weekend – but looks like you won't be able to read much anyway. But maybe then by Monday you'll find a couple of additional chapters and start off a new week with a smile ;) Have a great weekend and safe journey! Thank you so much for reading and reviewing!**

 **Fanficworn – CH18 : Firstly, thank you so much for the compliment! Secondly… I did not take any offense to your review, in fact, I always try and use the reader feedback to ensure the story flows better! I understand that the multiple POV is very confusing, but I cannot apologize for it as it is done this way for the very existence of this whole story. I promise you when all the chapters are up and you had to reread the fic, it would all totally make sense the way it's been done. I'm not encouraging you to only read the story when it's complete though, that would hurt my feelings :P I really appreciate you reviewing and raising your concern, it helps, believe me! Thank you so much for reading and reviewing, and I know everything is taking forever, but consider this a full novel if you must. If the idea wasn't already taken, I would have had my story published!(with my own characters of course)**

 **SonFan – CH18 : Thank you for loving my story! I'm reconsidering some of the plot line… it may turn out to be like 100+ chapters and Spencer might only come in at 80… KIDDING! Enjoy the next chapter, we are moving forward… slowly ;) Thank you so much for reading and reviewing!**

 **Mellyb14 – CH18 : I loved your review, you got the drugs thing! There's more entertainment in the next chapter, enjoy! Thanks for reading and reviewing!**

 **Esty31 – CH18 : After I read your review I was wondering how I could sneak Spencer's name into the chapter just to keep you hooked, but that would be so wrong! I'm sorry! It's so difficult for me to not even** ** _hint_** **about the chapter number she'll make her appearance, but I really cannot tell – I would be so disappointed in myself if I did. Thank you, despite being bombarded with ghosts and Ashley for so many chapters, that you haven't abandoned it and loving my story to not give up! I appreciate that so much! Thank you for the ranting review and thank you for reading!**

 **Southtrash – CH18 : I'm loving the feelings I'm invoking! I'm sick & twisted, I know! But thank you! Thanks for reading and reviewing so loyally!**

 **TheDWall – CH18 : Aaaaw thank you so much for the compliment! Longish chapter to follow, and more chapters as soon as I find more hours in the day!Thanks for reading and reviewing!**

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 **Just on a last note, before we delve into yet another Ashley-chapter… I'm happy to see there are so many die-hard Spencer fans; there was a guest reader who absolutely hated her in my other fics, and though I defended myself in saying I chose to make her the main character in those stories because it felt right to me, I must admit that I do miss her character in this story as much as you all do. So, rest assured, dear readers, she will be in the fic! I've already written the ending, so I know! ;)**

 **Enjoy!**

* * *

 **Ashley**

 **Hurricane**

When I opened my eyes and stared up at the roof as it came into focus, I couldn't help but burst out into hysterical giggles. My skin was clammy as usual, and breathing was difficult under the circumstances. I wasn't sure about the headache – it was there, concealed by a slight overdose of medication. I cursed myself for not doing it right, and again for having run out of meds to not be able to do it right. I wasn't sure how I was going to explain that to Doctor Carlin, and if he'd even help me with a refill script. The medication had been helping – it definitely took the hallucinations away, but it also slowly took my life from me. I wasn't sure how many days had passed since I had last opened my eyes. Every time I dosed myself up it seemed like more time passed in between. I knew what I was doing was far from healthy, but I was far more concerned about keeping the ghosts out of my suite.

The giggles ceased immediately when I sat up in my bed, feeling a violent wave of nausea wash over me. I wasn't sure whether it was because of the medication, or because I'd just recalled what my last dream was about.

I remembered Boz Anderson. I remembered the chilly New York air, and how I couldn't wait to get out of there. And I remembered his wife, and their little boy… It was so different from his point of view. It felt like I could feel his anxiety, the nervousness, the guilt of what he was putting his family through. The worst part was they were going through all of this because they believed in humanity.

Boz wasn't a bad guy, he didn't deserve to be taken out like this; and neither did his wife and kid deserve to carry the pain of not having him in their lives anymore.

This time the pain of that hit felt more real. My hand instantly reached for my forehead, but there was no scar. Then instinctively I rubbed the back of my head, expecting a gushing exit wound, but my skull was covered by a wild brunette do.

Everything seemed fine – except my state of mind. I half expected Boz to sit in the room somewhere, or lean against the doorframe, waiting for me to wake up, just like Aiden, Sasha and Sean had done the first time I saw them as… hallucinations. But they were all gone, I haven't seen them in days, and I giggled again, in relief, that Boz wasn't here either.

I finally pulled myself together and rolled out of bed, cautious of the ever-present nausea. In the bathroom I was fixated on my reflection in the mirror. My hair was a mess – pointing in all directions. My eyes were decorated with dark rings, pupils small, almost pinpointing back at me, my lips were chapped, and I felt dehydrated. Aside from feeling clammy, my skin was a scary shade of pale, and for a second I thought _I_ was the ghost.

I wasn't sure what I was going to do to look better when I had to go out and see if Doctor Carlin could help me with another script, but I supposed starting with a shower could help.

I stood under the hot, scalding water for as long as my sensitive skin could handle it. It felt like I needed it. I still had no idea how long I've been out for, but as I started regaining more sense as the water sprayed over me, I realized that I had to stop what I was doing, unless I _wanted_ to end up dead.

By the time I was done and the bathroom completely fogged up, my head felt more clear in comparison. I had to get out of the suite, get some fresh air, get something decent to eat. And I had to go start looking for a more permanent place to stay – it was ridiculous what they charged for extended lodging these days. And I had my weekly visit with Doctor Arthur Carlin. I felt bad about my reckless behavior, but maybe if I told him what I've done, he could adjust the medication somehow so it would be safe for me, but also work by keeping my _friends_ away.

I got dressed in a pair of skinny jeans and a simple black V-neck top, not ready to go _wow_ the world just yet. Though that was probably also a good idea. Maybe if I went out and just got back into routine things would go better already. I couldn't even remember the last time I had sex.

The more I thought about it, the happier I started feeling. Maybe that was all I needed all along; just a good night to get rid of all my pent up frustrations. By the time I walked into the kitchen to get some much needed coffee I was humming as if I'd just gotten laid.

" _Boo_ …"

My heart nearly stopped. The mug I'd reached for in the overhead cupboards dropped mid-air, crashing to the floor in shards. With my hands covering my chest, as if protecting my reckless-beating heart, I stared up at Aiden, leaning against the fridge. "Aiden, what the fuck!"

He shrugged nonchalantly. "Oh, sorry. Too soon?"

I reached for another cup and hurled it at him. Of course it went right through him and shattered against the fridge.

His arrogant smirk drove me up the walls. "What are you doing here?" I was devastated to see him. I didn't want to be high all the time, but I felt so much better, _lighter_ , when they weren't around.

Aiden let out an exaggerated sigh. "Ashley, you're stuck with us until you do something about it. And that doesn't include _comatosing_ yourself with your medication."

My good mood disappeared like a lower class paycheck. I wanted to sink down on my knees and just cry. I had really thought that my nightmare was over. I was convinced that they were gone. Peeking into the lounge, I saw Sean back on the recliner, reading an outdated paper. Sasha's eyes were glued to the TV. And of course, the new addition to my ghostly fan base sat on a stool by the mini bar, patiently waiting to be served in this imaginary world. All I needed now was Madison behind that counter to complete this bizarre picture.

The thought of Madison made me jittery. Was she also going to come back to haunt me?

"Ashley, it's good to see you," Boz said, swinging around in the chair to face me.

I stared at him, dressed perfectly in his work suit, covered by a thick brown Parka jacket, his hands in the same mittens he had on that day… I noticed the small stellar-shaped scar on his forehead, and prayed there wouldn't be a gaping hole at the back of his head. But other than the scar, Boz was in perfect health. Molded like a Ken doll, same as Sean, Aiden, and Barbie-girl over there who was still fascinated by whatever show was on TV.

"I'm sorry you got run over by that drunk driver. You seem a lot better though, I'm glad."

Enough with the apologies already! I killed them! Why did they apologize to me?

"Why?" It was all I could stutter out before I finally sank down to my knees, the tears unstoppable. I couldn't take this anymore. I couldn't take _them_ anymore.

My breakdown seemed to draw the attention of Sean and Sasha. They were all by my side the moment I looked up. "God, can't you all just fucking _go away_?" I cried desperately.

I didn't know it was possible, but Sasha had her hand on my shoulder, as if offering some support. I couldn't feel her touch, but it was the thought that counted, right?

"We don't want to sound like scratched CD's, but you know what to do to make this all go away, Ashley," she said gently. Her sarcastic demeanor from the other day was gone. Maybe ghosts also got PMS. "And we'll be here for you all the way," she added as an afterthought.

I couldn't help but scoff at that. Of _course_ they'd be here all the way – where else would they be? I was stuck with them unless I killed more people! Or completely gave myself over to drugs! Neither sounded like a good option to me. The heaviness of my situation pressed down on me like an elevator shaft. I searched my small memory bank for any possible reasons to validate why I was being punished like this. Was I a difficult teenager? An impossible toddler? Whose lives did I make hell _so_ much that they would wish something like this upon me? How did I end up a sniper – who was in charge of that decision? I felt like a marionette, being played like the string puppet I was. And how sad, that my life was currently dictated by a handful of _ghosts_. I wondered who was in charge of them. _Oh God, Stay Puft?!_ I would just die if a giant marshmallow was behind all of this.

That was it. I was losing it. I jumped up from the floor, appalled about how close I almost was at giving in to these hallucinations. "I'm not doing it, I'm not killing more people! You're not _real_! None of you are!"

Of course, that little outburst just brought on all kinds of pain. And finally, the nausea I'd been able to keep at bay all morning, shook my frail body until there was nothing left. I just let go, back on the floor, staring up at the ceiling boards with drooped eyelids, tears staining my cheeks while a disgusting trail of slobber dripped into my hair. Where was my medication when I needed it...

* * *

 _"Wow, those are so pretty, they look so cool, did it hurt?"  
"Oh, like hell."  
"Hey, Ash, maybe we should get one."  
"I don't know, if we get tired of each other, it won't wash off."  
"Oh, I didn't mean like get our names or anything."  
"All right, I'll see you guys later."  
"Lunch?"  
"Yes, lunch."  
"You know what we could do is we could get matching bracelets, jewellery hurts a lot less, too."  
"Yeah I'm uh, down for anything that hurts less these days…"_

* * *

I woke up with a start. My body ached, something tasted terrible in my mouth, and I felt like I'd been drinking for days on end. I sat up with a groan, finding myself on the floor of the open lounge in my suite, the smell of vomit flaring up my nostrils. It almost made me heave again.

I got up and moved out of the mess, feeling completely disorientated. Did I actually pass out because I said… Was that even possible?

I frowned, my eyes scanning the lounge area. _The Fantastic Four_ were in their seats like little obedient children, Sasha in front of the TV, Sean on his recliner, Aiden on the couch, and Boz, who I still even haven't talked to, back at the mini bar. As if nothing had happened.

But they weren't my concern right now as my eyes finally landed on the clock hanging just above the bar. If I didn't get cleaned up right away, I was going to miss my appointment. And after the day I've had so far, I really couldn't afford waiting another week to talk to Arthur.

I jumped into the shower, got cleaned up for the second time, and hurried out to the hospital in record time. I didn't care that I looked a bit disheveled and crazy. It was a drop in the bucket compared to how crazy I _felt_.

* * *

I found myself staring at the family portrait again, hoping Doctor Carlin would take his time. He had to attend to an in-hospital patient, which didn't bother me at all. It gave me time to stare. And stared, I did. This time not at Clay, or the parents, or the goofy blonde boy.

My eyes were fixed on the girl. There was something about her eyes… I wished it wasn't a black and white portrait – I was dying to find out what color her eyes were. But then I realized it wasn't only her eyes, there was something else. Something about that girl that felt so familiar. It also didn't help that they were still very young when that photo was taken. If I had to guess, the girl was probably around five years old at the time. The curiosity was overwhelming – I'd give anything to know what she looked like now.

It reminded me of the odd dream I had while passed out on the floor earlier. There were two girls with me, in a bathroom at school. It looked exactly like the school I went to – at least I could remember that much. But I didn't know either girls. Come to think of it, ever since I got hit by that drunk driver, this was the first non-violent dream I've had. I felt relief wash over me that none of the girls turned up in my suite as ghostly incarnations. Something else triggered my memory though. Tattoos.

I glanced down at the inside of my right wrist immediately, tracing the small scripted _S_ , feeling even more confused than ever before. If the dream was a real memory, then we weren't talking about the tattoo on my wrist. I didn't remember getting the tattoo on my wrist, and I still didn't know the meaning behind it. But I was sure I'd gotten a heart-shaped one on my left hip bone.

It felt inappropriate to strip right where I was, but a quick flip of the waistband of my jeans proved that I really _was_ losing my mind. There wasn't so much as a speck on my hip. No trace of any tattoos at all, aside from the mysterious _S_ on my wrist.

My heart sank.

Was I ever going to figure things out?

"Ashley, I'm so sorry for keeping you waiting."

I swallowed back the tears and smiled as Arthur made his way into the suite through the main door.

"Make yourself at home, I'll be right with you."

He was back in the room with my patient file just as I sat down on the comfortable couch.

"So, tell me about your week."

I was ashamed of myself. Where would I even begin? I had no recollection of doing anything other than getting up just to take more medication and sleep through the days. I felt terrible – Doctor Carlin was going to be so disappointed. Refusing to look up, I spoke softly."I uh… I slept most of the time." It was the truth, wasn't it?

Of course, he knew immediately that something was up. "Slept most of the time? Is something wrong?"

There was so much concern in his voice that I couldn't help but look up. His bright, blue eyes shocked me for a moment. Why did it look so familiar? And what was going on that I was suddenly on the verge of remembering things, just not quite getting there yet?

Doctor Carlin took note of my reaction, it seemed, and he sat back, his gaze still on me. "Ashley? Talk to me."

I took a deep breath. "I finished all the headache tablets."

His eyes went wide. "You what? Ashley, it was supposed to last you a month!" Calming down a little, he moved to the edge of his chair, reaching out to put his hand on my knee. "Did you try to…"

I knew where he was going with that, and I could truthfully say that the times I was fully capable of making sound decisions, the reason for taking excessive medication wasn't to kill myself. It was to kill the _ghosts_. "No! I'd never do that!"

"It's okay, Ashley, you're in a safe place. What we discuss here – "

I cut him off, he wasn't _listening_. "Doctor Carlin, I'd never do that. It wasn't because of _me_ , I wanted to get rid of the hallucinations. And it worked – it worked the times that I was awake too. But now it's all finished, and this morning another person added himself to the mix."

He seemed to think this over. _Finally_. "And this new… person… same as the others?"

I didn't want to go into details about Boz. Or anything about the bizarre dream involving politicians and the safety of California. "Yeah…"

"When you took the medication, how often did you take more, and how much more?"

Now we were getting somewhere! "I increased my dosages with one extra tablet each time. But the last time I took two extra. I didn't feel too good afterwards."

He chuckled. "You wouldn't – those are very strong drugs, Ashley. In fact, you could have killed yourself, do you realize that?"

I bowed my head in shame. "I just wanted it to stop."

Doctor Carlin let out an audible sigh. "Look, I understand this is frustrating and scary for you, Ashley. But we have to do this the safe way. I'm going to have to send you for some more blood work to see if there's been any damage done especially to your liver. If you want to stay independent and not be locked away somewhere, you're going to have to show me that I can trust you to go back home without doing anything stupid. Can I trust you?"

Could he? I wasn't too sure. What was I going to do if the ghosts just kept multiplying?

I nodded anyway.

"I'm not writing you a refill script. I'm going to have to prescribe something very mild for your headaches so even if you took everything at once you'd still survive it. I'm sorry, Ashley, but it's either that or we'll have to readmit you."

I felt utterly ashamed. And suddenly very depressed. I thought the session with Doctor Carlin would help in a way, but instead of feeling better, I felt like I'd let him down, and as a result, let myself down.

"Here, take this." Doctor Carlin pulled out a business card from his shirt pocket, and scribbled something on the back. "I don't normally do this, but here is my home number, and my cell number. If you ever need to talk, or want me to come and get you, please, phone me. Don't turn to things that could potentially ruin your life. You've just survived such a horrible ordeal already – life's just too precious to waste it away."

He said that as if he knew what it felt like to lose someone. And then I remembered that he did. Clay.

I took the card from him, my fingers grazing the indented numbers scribbled on the back. Another feeling of familiarity washed over me, but I couldn't place it. None of it made sense anymore.

"It's going to be okay, Ashley. We're here for you, you need to remember that. We'll get you through this."

* * *

The room was dark except for rays of moonlight filtering through the blinds of the lounge. I sat on the floor, my back against the kitchen island that separated the two rooms, facing the lounge area. The dim display of the TV flickered occasionally, but the volume was turned all the way down. I wondered if Sasha could lip-read.

Despite the beautiful night, the vibe in the room was depressing. Everybody was quiet.

I sighed, closing my eyes briefly, rewinding back to Friday when I'd gone to see Doctor Carlin. It was such a demoralizing day that not even sex with a hot random girl cheered me up that night. Saturday came, I tried the same thing with another girl, but I didn't feel any better. Part of it was because the new headache medication wasn't working at all – at times I curled up and cried from pain.

It was Monday now, Tuesday creeping in as the clock kept ticking. My moods obviously affected my _friends_ – they tiptoed on egg-shells around me. I had to get out of this rut somehow.

I was playing around with a possible solution, but scared that if I finally committed to it, my life would be over. But looking at it now, it already felt like I had one foot in the grave. I took a deep breath. "Who do I go after first?" My voice was shaky, but firm. "Which one of you wants freedom first?"

* * *

 **Hurricane – 30 Seconds to Mars**

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 **A/N : The dream/dialogue about getting the tattoos; the words are not mine, they belong to the writers of SON.**


	20. Remember

**A/N: Thank you all so much for still sticking to this story! I'm loving and appreciating all the reviews! What I'm loving even more is all the thoughts as to where things are going, so many great ideas that you guys have! If I had to put them all together I'd probably be able to write up another story just based on reader-thoughts ;)**

 **Anyway, my comments on reviews first and then the next chapter, it's one of those "** ** _OH_** **"-ones – ENJOY!**

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 **Esty31 – CH19 :** **One question I can answer, is yes, Ashley did lose her memory after high school – in fact, she can only remember bits of high school – this is not a spoiler, I think I mentioned it in the first chapter. How it happened is what will be in upcoming chapters and I'm so glad that you're a sucker for mystery and suspense because it means you're gonna keep on reading ;) I'm really flattered that you do take time to review and ask questions – and even more so that you're not going to give up on my fic! Thank you thank you thank you!**

 **SONFaN – CH19 :** **Thank you for the review! I don't mean to toy with emotions, well, okay, maybe a little bit! I wish I could give you all the answers to your guesses but that would just ruin everything. So I'll just have to write and write and write until we get there! In the meantime, enjoy, next chapter is here, I'm already excited about the reactions and looking forward to hear reader thoughts on this one!**

 **TheDWall** **–** **CH19 :** **Thank you! I take that as a compliment – building suspense has been my greatest struggle – I'm one of those people who just cannot, and I mean, CAN NOT keep surprises a secret. So this entire fic so far has been testing me in ways I cannot even begin to describe. By the reader feedback I must say I feel like my personal journey in writing this story is has been very rewarding – and I have you guys to thank!**

 **Trmack9 – CH19 : Haha, the same way you check for updates I'm like an excited puppy checking for reviews in the mornings! I wish I could say something about what you think might happen but I can't! All I can say is keep on reading ;) Thank you for reading and reviewing!**

 **Son-lyn** **–** **CH19 : I feel honored ;) I love, LOVE the review – actually so much that I hate it. Did you hack into my laptop or my phone and read my notes or something? ;) You really get what I'm doing – Ashley had been flippant up to now so the readers could associate her sarcastic side, but the deep stuff is coming (60 chapters to do that still!) And here is the weird scary part: when I started preparing for this fic, I woke up one night at like 3AM, and on my phone, made a note to reread Still Into You and Still Into You Too – to get a feel for Ashley's anxious thoughts – because I so totally agree that 'vaginawig' did an amazing job- it's one of my absolute favorite stories! And even though Still Into You Too isn't finished (which I'm very sad about) – the way it ended was sufficient enough, but there's obviously still a lot of story there. Point is, Ashley's thoughts in that fic was brilliant. And yes, I did reread them, and probably will again! And then I will laugh because I'll be thinking of this weird moment where someone could possibly have hacked my notes to know what I was thinking ;) Thank you for sharing that information though, it really is a great reference for any reader/writer – it was soooo well done! Thanks for the reading and review – I really appreciate it!**

 **Anjela78 – CH19 : Aaaw, don't be sad, I promise a happy ending! Though things are going to be difficult for Ashley and you might probably end up hating her for wanting/needing to kill again, there will be chapters where she'll be so in her own head and torn about her current situation that you might end up feeling depressed, but there will be chapters where you and probably all the fans waiting for Spencer will forget that the killings ever happened! The tattoo on the wrist plays a small role which I'm definitely not revealing – it's hard to not say anything, believe me, but I believe at the end of this fic everybody will appreciate my silence ;) Have a great day, and thanks for the review and reading!**

* * *

 **Glen**

 **Remember**

The sweet smell of fresh doughnuts and an undeniably delicious aroma of a good latte distracted me from the case file lying open in front of me. I glanced up, slightly irate from the distraction, but my growling stomach made me offer a genuine smile at my partner.

"You know, aside from the terrible association between those things and cops, it's also terrible for this." I patted my slightly overweight stomach, wishing I could go back a year or two, when six packs meant attractive abs and not a new brand of beer. Though being here and doing what I did kept me fairly fit and in shape, the beer and doughnuts were starting to catch up with me. But I couldn't help it – Joe's Donuts had strategically placed a 24-hour franchise right across the street from us, and it was quite obvious where half of the police force's paychecks were spent during the month.

So when late nights rolled in, or shifts changed, that was what we ate. It kept the police gym full at all times, but for me, it wasn't enough. I had to stop with these bad habits, eventually.

"You say that every day, yet you're grumpy when I don't feed you," Carlos laughed, pulling out his desk chair from the table across from mine. He plunged down and wheeled closer with the decadent pleasures on his lap, two lidded paper coffee cups in his hands.

"What are you busy with, anyway?"

I swallowed hard, knowing I couldn't lie to my friend even if I tried to. He was excellent at reading people.

He saved me from lying by raising his eyebrows and letting out a knowing _'Oh'_. When things quieted down at the station – not that it really ever did – I took every chance I got to obsess over the information I had, trying to look at the file and reports from every angle I possibly could. But nothing ever changed. The paperwork was already stained with drops of coffee, one even had the ring of a coffee mug stamped to it. The edges of the reports were worn or folded. I shifted through the stack of papers at least five times a day. Sometimes even more. But no new information or clues ever came to light. I'd been to the site in San Francisco more times than I could count, using it as an excuse to visit my parents, but actually I went there trying to imagine myself being there the day it happened, looking for something, _anything_ , that could help bring forth new evidence.

A flimsy manila folder were shoved in front of me, knocking me out of my thoughts. "We keep getting inquiries about this one. Are you ever going to contact them?"

One look at the photograph attached to the front with a sturdy paperclip and I knew exactly what Carlos was talking about. I felt sorry for them, for the family, I really did. But there was nothing we could do. It'd been so many years already. There was only one half-ass report filed, and the officers who had taken the statement all those years ago wasn't even in LA anymore.

Yet, at least once a month, we'd get a phone call regarding this case.

I shook my head ruefully. "What's the point? Nothing's going to change, we all know it."

I tried to avoid the smirk on Carlos's face. "It's funny, that you say that, yet, there's another open file on your desk…"

I couldn't help but snap at him. This was different. This was personal. It was my family. "I _get_ it, okay?"

Carlos raised his hands in defense. "No need to get snappy. I'm sorry, I know it's personal."

Of course he knew – he lost his wife not too long ago. But he never showed any signs of sadness, he wasn't cracking at the seams the same way I did. I wondered how he managed to do that. It made him seem so inhuman.

"Carlin, Pena, come see me in my office quick."

We both turned to look at our Captain, only his head sticking into the doorway of our glass paneled office. Once acknowledged, he disappeared back into his closed off office, adjacent to ours.

Leaving the coffee and doughnuts behind, we both followed suit and were surprised to find the Deputy Commissioner seated in front of Captain Tanner's desk. Standing up as we entered the office, we all saluted each other.

"Deputy Commissioner," Carlos and I said in unison.

"Gents, at ease. Please, take a seat," the Commissioner instructed, taking her seat again.

I looked between our Captain and the Commissioner, frowning. "What's going on?"

Captain Tanner pushed a case file towards me, and I picked it up from the edge of his table, feeling my insides flutter at the prospect of a new case – high profile by the looks of it. This was what I lived for.

"Gents, don't get too excited, the FBI is already on this, as are every other high-up task force, but we've been approached by the Mayor himself, wanting someone without political ties to look into it. Call it a different perspective, if you must," Captain Tanner said, the strain in his voice evident that he'd rather us not be involved with politicians and their antics. But since the Deputy Commissioner was right here in this office with us, there wasn't really any way out of it.

My gaze fell on the photograph attached to the case file, causing my heart to clench. She was only seventeen years old. Executed, right in front of her classmates, during graduation.

I tried to ignore the slight shake of my hands, determination to find out whoever did this overtaking the rush of emotions that temporarily clouded my thoughts.

"We want you to start at the scene downtown where one of the suspects were shot dead. There is some surveillance that's been made available to us, but go talk to the people at the dealership. Maybe they'll open up a little more to normal guys on the ground," Deputy Commissioner Kline spoke up.

I stared at her with slight dismay. How dared she talk down on us like that? Just because the FBI and whoever else was already on this case, didn't mean we were worth any less.

"People just open up easier to police who's not imitations of the _Men-In-Black-_ type with overly expensive suits and guns meant to take out aliens."

I always loved our Captain's sense of humor.

"So, how much information is in this case file? Are they keeping anything confidential or do we have something proper to work with?" Carlos asked. Always the skeptical one. And he had every right to be. We all knew the answer to that already.

"There are some things that are classified as confidential, it was left out of the file. Look, your job is just to go out and take secondary statements, see if you can find any additional information that hadn't been reported already. Leave the analysis and solving of the case to the FBI," Deputy Commissioner Kline said briskly.

I exchanged a knowing glance with Carlos, and we finally agreed, knowing we didn't really have any other choice. So much for an exciting new case. The murder of Mayor Dan Miller's daughter was old news. It's been three weeks already – surely the FBI was saturated with information and clues. We barely got any feedback after assisting with their cases – it was all hush-hush every single time. This case wouldn't be any different.

"Good, so Carlin, Pena, I say head over to the dealership now and get whatever you need, so we can get the FBI what they need and get this over and done with," Captain Tanner instructed and subtly hinting for us to leave his office.

"Ma'am, always a pleasure to see you," I held out my hand to greet Deputy Commissioner Kline. She got up and greeted us formally, before continuing deep discussions with our Captain as we left the office.

"Man this sucks," Carlos sighed, grabbing his badge and standard issue handgun from his desk drawer.

I did the same, but stopped for a second, staring at the now cold coffee and half eaten doughnut. With a shrug I turned around and followed Carlos out of our office, deciding it was time to get rid of the belly fat and introduce myself to healthy food. Glancing at Carlos's own growing stomach, I realized we both needed it.

* * *

There wasn't much to look at on the copy of the surveillance video. All we could see was the roof of a black SUV, the heads of the occupants' heads cut off due to the angle of the surveillance camera. The other cameras all focused on the cars on the lot, and of course, the interior of the dealership.

The suspect who had been shot and killed, appeared briefly and we watched as he expertly broke into a red Dodge Charger in the lot, hot-wiring it within seconds and then fired up the engine in true muscle car fashion. The roar of the engine is what grabbed everybody's attention. But by the time the dealership manager had made his way outside, the Dodge raced down the street.

What was odd, however, was that the very same guy who had stolen the car, was shot dead in the SUV. It didn't make sense. How on earth did he get back in there?

"Wait, can you go back for me, please? Just a couple of minutes – go to where the Dodge left the parking lot," I instructed the manager.

I watched over his shoulder as he hovered the mouse over the timeline and dragged the cursor back. I was somewhat relieved that the dealership at least had a decent enough surveillance system that didn't have us sit here rewinding through video tapes for an entire day. In fact, as we were watching the clips, I was already having it copied onto a flash drive too. Our Captain never said anything about not snooping a little.

I just wanted to show the suits that we were just as capable as them at solving high-profile cases.

"There, stop right there." I focused on the SUV instead of the action around the Dodge racing away. The SUV drove forward a couple of feet but then stopped. The driver got out, but I only got a glimpse of tied back hair. A ponytail?

"Stop. Go back a couple of seconds?"

I noticed Carlos's frown, but he knew me well enough to keep quiet and focused on the screen instead.

The clip started playing again, until I saw the driver rise from the door. "Okay, there, stop."

The manager obviously had no idea what I was looking at, but Carlos got it. That's why we were in this job and the manager in a dealership.

"Female?" Carlos lipped over the manager's head. We knew well enough not to let clues slip in front of civilians. I nodded, a small smile forming on my lips.

We barely had anything to work on, given the classified information that was discreetly left out of the file, but I had a good feeling about this. We were going to show those suits what LAPD was made of.

* * *

I had no idea what kind of information the FBI analysts had been able to pull from the surveillance clips, but I felt content with what I'd found in the three hours I've been going back and forth through the videos. The second suspect was definitely female. And putting two-and-two together, it was obvious that she had made her escape in the Dodge that was stolen by the male suspect. None of it made sense, but I was happy with my own conclusions. My next step was to visit the impound where the black SUV had been dumped. It was evidence, and the FBI had most likely pulled everything they could from the vehicle. If I got a bare shell it would be a lot. But it was worth a shot.

I let out a long sigh, pulling away from my computer screen to give my eyes a break. I'd forgotten all about the other cases still piled up on my desk, and glancing around at the dark, empty office, I realized our shift was over a couple of hours ago. But checking my watch, I smiled, knowing I could still go a few more hours. It was only 5PM – we had an early shift today.

My eyes landed on the manila folder Carlos had dropped on my desk earlier, the one containing no other information except personal details, and a brief missing person report, haphazardly filed away for eight odd years. I stared at the photograph of the girl, feeling sad that such a hot girl had disappeared off the face of the earth and nothing really had been done about it. And then I felt disappointed in myself, for not digging into it the first time the file landed on my desk. It was a couple of years late already, but back then her chances of being found was a lot bigger than now. If she wasn't dead, then she didn't _want_ to be found.

I opened the folder and stared at the lined paper, torn form a punched writing pad. At least someone at the station had taken some initiative to write down all the notes and messages on one paper and not scribbled it on millions of post-its.

The messages were all from one person only, apparently the half-sister. She was the one who diligently kept phoning every month, even after eight years, to find out if there had been any progress on the case. I felt sorry for her, and slightly confused. Why was the mother not involved any further except for reporting the incident? And how was it that the sister kept phoning from New York all the time if the home address stated Los Angeles – even eight years ago?

I suddenly had a lot of questions. Maybe there was something I could do about this case. Even if it was just to give the sister some closure. I thought about the case file that I'd been obsessing with in my own free time, knowing what it felt like to seek closure.

I picked up my office phone and started dialing the number written down hundreds of times in the file of the missing girl.

 _"Hello?"_

I cleared my throat. "Hi, is this Kyla Woods?"

 _"Speaking."_

"Miss Woods, this is detective Carlin from the Los Angeles Police Department, I'm phoning regarding your inquiry about a missing person, Ashley Davies…"

* * *

 **Remember – Disturbed**


	21. The Mission

**A/N: Thank you all for the AMAZING reviews! And thanks to everyone for reading! I can't promise anything, but there's another chapter I want to get up before the weekend, but if I don't make it, I'll spoil you with a good update on my birthday Monday! Things will move a bit fast in this chapter – it's just that we're not exactly following every single minute of Ashley's days.**

 **Anyway, I know I said thanks before but I just want everybody who's still sticking to my fic to know that I really appreciate it!**

* * *

 **TheDWall – CH20 : I really appreciate your review – you're right, dots are being connected and it will happen a lot more going forward – and thank you for loving it! Thank you so much for reading and loyally reviewing!**

 **Southtrash – CH20 : Please don't let the anxiety kill you – I kinda like your reviews! ;) I know there's a lot of mystery and things are very slow in coming together, but it is quite an intricate plot. I promise in the end you'll feel that it was well worth it! Thank you so much for reading and loyally reviewing!**

 **SonFan – CH20 : I hope your seat has a long edge! I wish I could update more frequently so it wouldn't feel so hopelessly mysterious and confusing, but where's the fun in that! ;) Thank you so much for reading and loyally reviewing!**

 **Son-lyn – CH20 : I get your rationale about reviewing – I'm somewhat similar that way. Like that quiet person who sits and observe everyone until you scarily know way too much about them but then feel like you can throw in your two cents kind of thing. Or that's just me. Scary much? ;) About the POV's – there is actually only 4 storylines, the ghosts' 'flashbacks' should become a familiar pattern soon – I try and do them all the same way so people can easily distinguish between a ghost/Ashley/other character. Maybe it's not been that obvious yet but the story is still very much in the beginning – and eventually it will fall in place. Hopefully. :P That emotional depth thing… it's difficult, but it's coming ;) I just want to stay happy for a couple more days but once my clock strikes one year older, I'll be depressed as hell and poor Ashley's character is gonna feel the brunt of it! I enjoy everybody's reviews and I do have a lot of fun replying, it's nice getting to know my readers on some weird kind of level – okay, I'll stop being a scary person – I just like to know what people think and their thought processes and I feel that responding to that keeps them engaged in not only the story but also the process, which to me means quite a lot! And it's also like… a** **CAPTCHA (acronym for "Completely Automated Public Turing test to tell Computers and Humans Apart") –** **reminding myself and my readers we're all human (I hope everyone knows by now I'm human because I can't write 24/7 and there's a hell of a lot of grammar mistakes I pick up!) – so the whole conversational thing via reviews and responds is cool to me too! I don't know if that made sense at all, it's 1AM here and I'm on meds. Anyway… here's the next chapter – not the emotional turmoil you were looking for, but we're getting there! Thank you so much for reading and reviewing awesomeness!**

 **GirlsOnly – CH20 : I'm glad that you're nervous after reading that chapter – it means you're getting what I'm doing with the characters! Spencer… I'm pretty much sure by just putting together all the reviews with her name in it would make a story of its own! She'll be here soon, don't worry ;) Thank you so much for reading and always reviewing!**

 **Guest – CH20 : It makes me all fuzzy inside to see that my other stories are also still being read ;) Thank you for the compliment! I have no intention of dropping this story, this I can promise you! I'm just as sad to see stories being abandoned and only a handful of new stories being posted for SON – but such is life I guess. Thank you so much for reading and reviewing!**

 **Anjela78 – CH20 : I'm excited to see that you're getting where I'm going with the story, especially with introducing Glen's character. I can't say much but you're somewhat on the right track ;) I hope by the end of this story people will feel enthralled and read it again, once complete it will obviously feel different reading without waiting after each cliffhanger chapter! Spencer will be in the story soon, I promise! Have a great day and weekend, I'm hoping to get more chapters up very soon! Thank you so much for reading and always reviewing!**

 **Mellyb14 – CH20 : I'm sorry for being misleading with the Carlin Detective – it was planned that way bohahahaha ;) But this twist was very necessary, you'll soon understand why! Thank you for the compliment! I'm also glad Ashley laid off with the drugs, but her problems are far from over. As for Arthur, he'll always be the supportive good guy! All through this fic ;) Thank you so much for reading and always reviewing!**

 **CeSB – CH20 : Thank you so much, I really appreciate it! And thank you for adding my fic as a favorite and following it – since it is a long story I appreciate the follows as I know my updating schedule is very random! Thank you so much for reading and reviewing!**

* * *

 **Ashley**

 **The Mission**

"Are you sure?"

I scoffed. Of course I wasn't sure. It ticked me off that Aiden suddenly cared. Wasn't this what they wanted, after all?

"Do I have any other choice?" My voice was still shaky, despite how firm I tried to appear.

"Can I be first?"

I looked up at Boz, somewhat surprised by his request, and it seemed, so were the other ghosts. I pushed myself off the floor and sat down next to Aiden, who had sat up from his couch the moment I told them I was considering their offer. Kill, and be free.

"I'm sorry, I know it's selfish, but – "

He didn't have to explain, there was something that told me I needed to start with Boz. "It's okay, Boz, we can start with you."

There were no objections from Sasha, Sean, or Aiden. They turned to stare at me, their expressions somewhat surprised. As if they realized something I didn't.

"You _are_ ready," Sasha finally whispered. A smile spread across her face, a smile I haven't seen since the day I took her life from her. It made me feel somewhat uncomfortable. How were people ever ready to do something like this? How did I do it before?

"I'll tell you everything I know. Sean and Aiden too. Sasha, what you're about to hear might sting a bit, though I know you know why you're here," Boz continued.

"Wait," I jumped up, interrupting him. It suddenly occurred to me that I would have to take notes. Where jobs were previously handed to me in the form of a manila folder, containing all kinds of information, this time I had to start from scratch. I ran to my bedroom and grabbed the notebook and pens Chelsea had given me while I was still in hospital. I'd only used it once. I was grateful that I still had my gun, and the digital camera. I got rid of the camera bag on my way to San Francisco. I made a mental note to go through the stash of money I still had – there was probably a whole couple of things I'd have to buy to do what was required of me. In the meantime, I still had to find another place to live, and a job to maintain some sort of income, since my own lucrative bank account was still inaccessible.

Plunging back onto the couch, I took a deep breath, pen in my hand, ready to start writing down everything there was to know about the murder of Boz Anderson.

* * *

I wiped at my tired eyes with one hand, while rapidly shaking the other that had been scribbling notes for more than three hours. While Boz's recap of why he got killed shocked me, I was utterly flabbergasted to find out that all of my ghosts' pasts were somehow linked. All except Aiden, of course. But he was ultimately also involved – he knew about these cases long before I was even commissioned to do the hits. It confused me that I never put two and two together, but in my defense, I had so much on my mind – stalking my targets, covering my tracks, preparing myself for new jobs while trying to find a way out of the Agency altogether… and here I was, about to go back to do what I hated.

But the sadness I felt previously wasn't here now. I felt vindicated, it felt right to do this. The people who were directly involved in ordering hits on my ghosts were the villains. I had to keep convincing myself of this otherwise I'd never pull through. And I'd never get rid of the ghosts either…

"So can't I just go after the group of politicians – won't that solve everybody's problems? Dead _and_ alive?" I wondered out loud. If all these cases were connected, then surely there was ultimately only one person in charge, and if I only had to kill one person, I'd be very happy.

Aiden shook his head. "It doesn't work that way. This works like a normal chain of command. If my boss asked me to kill you, you'd have to kill me, and not my boss. The same with Boz. Someone at his company ordered and paid for that hit – not the politicians. They wouldn't get their hands dirty like that."

It didn't make sense. "But what about Sean? He was directly involved with those scumbags. We all know he didn't get hit by the bank robbers. Yay me, huh?"

"It was my dad. He hated Sean. It was personal as much as it had to do with their unlawful dealings," Sasha mumbled.

My heart broke for her. How was I going to go after Dan Miller while his daughter was right here with me, mourning the loss of her own life? Surely she despised him for what he has done, but he was still her father…

I let out a long sigh, knowing this was going to be a lot harder than it seemed. I also understood now why I had to start with Boz, and I was thankful, because his case would be the easiest to go after. I didn't know where he would go once I killed whoever ordered the hit, but I was sure it was someplace where he could look down and keep an eye on his family. Where here… they were stuck with me.

"Okay," I breathed out, my eyes scanning the clock on the wall. It was already after 2AM. "It's been great hanging with you guys, but I'm really tired. There's a lot to do tomorrow so I'm going to head off to bed."

I got up and left them to do whatever it was they did to pass time – I didn't even know if ghosts ever slept. Probably not. But I was exhausted. After recovering from my prescribed drug addiction the previous week, and then struggling with the repercussions of not having proper pain medication for the headaches, and of course, strenuous sex to try and get my mind off things, it was all starting to take its toll on me. I doubted that I'd fall asleep though, the information overload of the past three hours still processing in my highly active mind. So I laid back on my bed, eyes focused on the ceiling, waiting for sleep to rescue me from this insane reality I lived in.

* * *

The remainder of the week had gone by quickly. I'd managed to find a small condo in the Bay Area, close to the beach, which made me extremely happy because I'd be able to go for long jogs, or walk on the beach if I needed to clear my head, and it wouldn't be too difficult to get to the hospital on Fridays since public transportation was available right up to my street. I'd decided to ditch the car – left it in the parking garage of the hotel. I figured they'd tow it away eventually once they realized it was just standing there forever in an unmarked parking. I had to move it out of the allocated parking that was linked to my suite, just to prolong the time it could stand there, and also to clear up some tracks.

I also got a job, at a small coffee shop close to my condo. It was long hours but at least I only had to go in three times a week. The wages were enough to pay my utility bills and put food on the table – I didn't really need anything more since I still had a small fortune in cash, and was waiting patiently for the right time to start accessing my bank account to withdraw funds without raising alarm. I had to go find a smart kid who could help me set up my new laptop and help disguise my IP location before I'd even dare to log into my account.

Furnishing the condo was easy. I kept it simple; proper bed, proper coffee machine, small TV, a desk, whiteboard and office supplies, and a cheap lounge suite for my ghosts to crash on. I didn't have a bar for Boz, but he wouldn't be there for much longer, so he made himself comfortable on a couch. There were two bedrooms; I made one a small office and was thankful that all my case files and research would be out of sight should someone come into my condo.

The 'office' was soon decorated with photographs, maps, notes on the whiteboard, and my laptop on the desk, waiting patiently for me to do more research on Paterson & Hughes, the company that Boz worked for.

I dropped down into the desk chair, bagel in one hand, coffee in the other, stuffing my mouth before I put both down on the desk and opened up my laptop. I had printed out all the pages that I researched and had to constantly delete everything in my browser history, paranoia kicking in that I'd be discovered if I dug too deep.

Luckily one of the baristas at the coffee shop was a bit of a geek, and she had agreed to help me set up some applications to mask my IP address and all sorts of stuff I was sure was normally considered illegal. In return for her favor, I had a hotel room booked for Saturday night, and would show her the benefits of exploring your sexuality. Her idea – not mine.

I didn't mind, of course. She was a hot, young, college student, who hid beneath dark hair, dark eyes, glasses that were just there for the show, and ever-present beanies which I wondered if she wore the same one every day or hopefully had a collection to at least get some washed occasionally.

Boz had given me some sites to check out, and eventually I stumbled across his company's internal portal. Boz still had his login details, but I was terrified to use it. The IT people would immediately see that a dead person had logged into their old account. And if their IT people were smart enough, they'd most probably be able to track me down somehow.

So I had to wait until Saturday. I had a lot of questions for Monica, and I had to find creative ways to ask her without her getting suspicious. She was already fascinated by the idea of helping me hide my online presence. I found it cute, but of course, the paranoia was there.

"Aren't you late for something?"

I sat back into my chair, not even turning around to face Aiden, leaning in the door. He was getting more annoying as minutes passed by. "Are you my personal assistant now?"

"I'm just looking out for you, Ash."

That made me spin around in my chair. "Looking _out_ for me?" I stared at him in disbelief. "Looking out for me wouldn't have gotten me into this mess a month ago. We still need to talk about that day, Aiden. You and I have a lot to discuss. And I also need to talk to you about your little obsession with me – it's freaking me out."

He stared back at me, mouth agape.

"I was you, remember? The day you got shot? I know _exactly_ what you were thinking – the _whole_ time." Thinking about it gave me goosebumps. Up to this day, he still looked at me as if there were a chance of something more.

"Ash, I – "

"Stop! Stop calling me that. And stop pretending to be my friend, Aiden. You wanted more than friendship, while you knew I'm not into guys!"

I watched his expression fall, dropping his gaze to stare at the suddenly interesting carpet of my mini office. Although I felt bad about the spontaneous outburst, I refused to apologize. Now that we had to dig so deep and far back, it was bound to happen that Aiden's reasons for being here would be discussed, dissected, and even a plan of action put together to get him out of my hair. And unfortunately, with that, came dealing with his feelings, as well as mine. We were in this together, since I shot him, but it didn't mean I was feeling remorseful about it. And I definitely didn't have any love declarations for him. I didn't like him then, and I didn't like him now. It was never going to change.

I liked girls. He was just going to have to accept that.

"I just came to remind you that your appointment with Doctor Carlin is in an hour," he finally said, looking up at me.

Of course. Make me feel like a bitch.

I got up with a muted _'thank you'_ and brushed past him, expecting to feel a shoulder touch mine, but there was nothing there. He wasn't… _there_.

* * *

There was a lot of information I had to process in the week that had passed. Ever since I decided I'd take matters into my own hands, and try to get rid of the ghosts their way, I had forgotten about Clay. And the girl I was so sure were in my dreams that one night.

So I found myself staring, once again, at the family portrait of the Carlins, while waiting for Doctor Arthur Carlin to start with our session. He had to attend to yet another in-hospital emergency, but it didn't bother me at all. In fact, I wished I had more time to stare. What I _really_ wanted to do was sneak into his office, and see if I could find any more photographs of his family.

I was grateful that no new ghosts had shown up, but I was still dreading that Clay would eventually come to haunt me. I just really wanted to see what the kids looked like all grown up – surely they were all grown up by now.

Except for the goofy blonde boy – I could understand if he never grew up. Boys…

I sighed, eyes trained on the old portrait. The longer I stared at the girl, the more I felt this unsettling feeling in my stomach. There had to be a connection somewhere, maybe I ran into her in a shop, or a mall, or maybe she was a famous actress and I saw her on TV. I wanted to ask Arthur about her on numerous occasions – even just a name – but he closed up about his family the same way I guarded my secret about being a cold-hearted killer. Maybe one day I'd get him to open up to me the same way he made me feel comfortable talking to him.

"Ashley, I'm so sorry to keep you waiting," Arthur announced, out of breath, as he rushed into his suite.

I smiled and stepped away from the wall, not wanting him to know I was staring at his family, _again_. "No problem, I understand you had an emergency."

He returned the smile and disappeared into his office to grab my file. Back in the suite, he gestured for me to sit down on the comfortable couch. I'd been looking everywhere – I couldn't find anything like it when I went furniture shopping.

Arthur opened my file and scanned through it as I patiently waited for him to start. I felt good for a change, but the reason wasn't exactly something I could share with him. So I was relieved when we started with the more intense medical stuff.

"How are the headaches?" He jumped right into it.

"It's torturous, but I've been managing," I answered honestly. I wished he'd give me something stronger again, but I doubted one week would make Arthur trust me again.

I watched as he made a note and then looked up at me again. "I'm sorry you have to go through this Ashley. It's just, I want to see you get better." His apology was heartwarming – even though I didn't deserve it. I was the idiot who thought overdosing would help.

"I want you to go and see Paula – my wife, they need to do another scan, just so we can be sure that there's been no damage after the initial head injury. Your blood work came back fine despite the increased intake of pain medication, so I'm quite happy and relieved about that. How are we doing with the hallucinations?"

I sighed. Although I was feeling positive about taking things into my own hands, this was one thing I didn't want to lie about. "I still get them. The whole time. But no additions to the four people, and it's not been hindering me as much though."

I noticed Doctor Carlin frown, and decided to tell him the good news. "I mean, I've been getting out more. I found a permanent place to live, I got a job… so, I mean, it's not taking over my life so badly anymore. When I get out it doesn't happen."

That seemed to make him very happy. He scribbled furiously in my file, a smile playing on his lips. "This is great news, Ashley. This is great progress! I was really worried last week, but I see that you're the fighter I thought you were after all."

His innocent, encouraging words ripped me apart. I was anything but a fighter. I was a killer. If only he knew half the stuff going on in my life, he wouldn't be the proud Doctor he was. I'd be locked away in an instant.

But the last thing I wanted to see was how disappointed he'd be in me, so I just smiled and accepted the compliment. "Thank you."

"Are you free to get the scans done today still? I'd like to have a good look at it before we meet up next week, just to see what we can do for your headaches and the hallucinations. Though the pain will eventually subside, I'm just worried that the hallucinations won't, and seeing you on a weekly basis for the rest of your life will not suffice if it doesn't get better, now will it?"

I chuckled, but realized it would be sad when I had to stop coming in to see Arthur. It almost made me want to delay sending my ghosts back to where they belonged, but at some stage I had to move on from all of this if I really wanted to start over fresh. And that included not coming to the hospital anymore. "I'm free. I'll go down as soon as we're done here."

"Are you still doing the exercises we gave you? It's important to build up your muscles again after the long hospital stay and bed rest."

"Still doing it, and I started jogging too. It's a bit painful on my ribs but I'm careful."

Doctor Carlin seemed really impressed. It only made me feel worse. "As long as you don't overdo it. But I'm really glad to hear how you're turning things around, Ashley. You're stronger than you think. It's something to be proud of."

Yeah, a _lot_ worse…

"Anyway, let me write you the referral note, there's not much more we can do today, everything is really up to the scans now so we can make an informed decision regarding lasting after effects."

For the first time, I was actually grateful to get out of Doctor Arthur Carlin's office. Despite the visit going well and the great progress that had been made, my mood had dropped to an all-time low. It wasn't that I wasn't happy about the great progress, or even that eventually I wouldn't have to come here anymore, no, it was nothing like that. I was disappointed – in myself, for letting Arthur Carlin down. He just didn't know it yet.

* * *

 **The Mission – 30 Seconds to Mars**


	22. Wildflowers

**A/N: Please don't hate me for leaving you all hanging for over a week! I had to restructure some chapters (and even add some) to ensure the story flows, and it just took a bit more time than I anticipated! That's why, in the meantime, I thought I'd get that one-shot out of my system (for those who haven't read it, check out Magic Beans uploaded a couple of days ago – I was blown away by the awesome response on that one!).**

 **Anyway, there's been some amazing feedback on Ghost of an Angel, as always, I really appreciate the time all of you take to read my story and to review! It doesn't go unnoticed! My comments on the last reviews may be a bit long, so feel free to skip and scroll down to the start of this chapter!**

* * *

 **Son-lyn – CH21 : LoL, these reviews are turning into essays of their own ;) Not that I'm complaining – I love it, love the interaction, feedback, thoughts, as mentioned before, I use it as constructive criticism, and it's really helped so far – hence also a bit of a break between posting new chapters – not because I was put off but because I had to make sure the story absolutely moves forward and do so realistically ;) (we'll ignore the fact that we're dealing with unrealistic ghosts and sniper agencies here)**

 **I'm glad you're patient about the character development, I had to put a lot of thought in how to do that given the way the story started (right in the middle of job) – also, done so with reason. Depth has always been a thing for me – a personal thing – so given the platform of this story it's almost like letting out a little bit of myself to the world – yes, I'm still** ** _'weirding'_** **(love the word, btw!) So thank you for the patience, you'll be drowning in depth soon!**

 **This chapter (21)** ** _was_** **a bit of a filler – I don't particularly like them, I prefer stories where things get so intense you have to stop reading for an hour or two just to gather yourself – instead of the writer doing it for you. So, yeah, didn't like that one myself too much, but it was somewhat necessary. I can't say there won't be more, but if you do stumble across them, feel free to call me out on it! The Ashley and overdoing the meds part – this was somewhat drawn from personal experience – you will notice that she didn't take a whole bottle of pills at once, it was merely one extra tablet at a time; I'm no addict to medication, I was in a car accident myself and because of a permanent head injury, the beginning stages to get to the correct level of medication to stop seizures was exactly that – sometimes trying to take things into your own hands with only one increased dosage. And the side-effects which were in fact hallucinations, weren't at all pleasant like Ashley's – I wouldn't have minded believing the cast of SON was 'visiting' me at all ;) Anyway, so just to put your mind at ease, depending from person to person, the time that it takes to overcome such things can actually happen in a short time – physically. The emotional part can sometimes have an everlasting effect – and since Ashley is still in denial and not really dealing with stuff, she doesn't know how things are affecting her. We will find out, however, when depth overcomes her ;)**

 **The job and identification and using her own name… I'm also one for things to make sense and not be too farfetched. There was a teeny bit method behind the madness there, which will be revealed a bit later on ;) I** ** _do_** **appreciate you mentioning it though, because it made me think twice for everything else I** ** _haven't_** **planned on being unrealistic!**

 **The whole Ashley-Aiden thing… I can write books about that, yes Aiden is a bit sly in this regard, and that's all I can say, because this wasn't the last time they'd fight over his 'feelings'… I feel sorry for the dude, but every story has to have them! So you're not reading too much into things – in fact, stop hacking my notes! After the story is done and your curiosity had been sated, we can drink coffee across continents and discuss the inner workings of a guy ogled by millions of girls, yet hated by the entire gay female population :P**

 **That's it from me for now, I need to get back to writing the actual story before readers come hunt me down for disappearing for so long. Thank you so much for the birthday wishes – a lady never gives away her age, but I'll throw you a bone – I'm an 80's baby ;) Thank you for your totally awesome ramblings and reviewing and giving so much input – even if you don't even know it! It is much appreciated!**

 **TheDWall – CH21 :** **Thank you so much for reading and reviewing! I'm sorry it took so long to get the next chapter(s) out, I just had to work on the plotline a bit to ensure it keeps my readers coming back for more! And thank you for the compliment on my writing :) We're not too far away from Spencer making her first appearance, so keep on reading!**

 **Anjela78 – CH21 : And here's one of my other favorite reviewers :) I'm so sorry it took so long to update, I really had to work on the plotline a bit, and I felt so bad when I saw your review on 'Magic Beans' – I didn't mean to keep you waiting for the update! Hopefully the next couple of chapters will keep you satisfied until I post more ;) Anyway, to come back to your review. The name of the story was completely random – the original name was Angel of Death (that was also the name of the web-series) – but because I wanted to keep the plot a mystery I couldn't risk people looking up that name. So I was very sad to have to think up something else as I loved the name Angel of Death. So the next best thing was Ghost of an Angel – and come to think of it, it is kindof suited for this story, but not for the reasons you think. So don't be sad, and don't be worried about Spencer's role in this fic, I can't say much, but what you thought wasn't it. There is definitely a happy ending and Spashley will be well and alive ;) That's all I can give you for now. Sasha is a nice character in this fic, but because she is a ghost, we won't have her for long, but there will be some depth later on about her past with her father. Aiden… loved your viewpoint on him. But as I explained to Son-lyn, we unfortunately do need these characters to keep the stories interesting! So he will be in the story for a while still! But Ashley is strong, much stronger than she realizes, so we'll get some laughs out of Aiden being in the picture. I hope you like the next chapter, it's all Kyla, and I'm planning to post more than only her chapter tonight since I owe you all a lot of reading material after I disappeared for a week! Hope you had a wonderful weekend, we have some time off at the moment due to Easter and other public holidays, so hopefully I can post even more ;) Thank you so much for reading and reviewing!**

 **SoNFan – CH21 : I'm sorry for keeping you waiting! Here's the next chapter, and hopefully a couple more to keep you satisfied for a day or so ;) Thank you so much for reading and reviewing!**

* * *

 **Kyla**

 **Wildflowers**

Debbie was going to kill me. I could figure that much from the hate-texts she'd been sending since last night, right after I informed her I was not on my plane back to New York.

Instead, I found myself standing in front of 9th Division, Los Angeles Police Department, _again_. I was very cynical about the phone call that came through right before I had to board my plane. Two weeks ago I was told there were no new leads, no new information other than the flimsy missing person report filed eight years ago. So what could possibly have changed in just a couple of days? It was the first time an actual detective handled the case – as far as I knew.

Taking a deep breath, I couldn't help but find irony in the aroma of sweet, fresh doughnuts, coming from right across the street. Joe's Donuts knew exactly where their target markets were and made good use of that opportunity. The small franchise was packed with uniformed officers.

I finally took the stairs up into the police station, feeling my heart race a little. I wasn't sure what to expect from this meeting with Detective Carlin – I doubted he'd have any good news, but being an extreme optimist, I couldn't help but hope.

The interior of the station always took my breath away. I've seen some police operations run out of old, run-down buildings, some with only one or two desks stuck into a small, stuffy office. In comparison, 9th Division looked like a NASA center. Everything was state of the art. The front desk had three officers stationed behind it, protected by what was obviously bullet proof glass. Cluster seats and little desks were strategically scattered throughout the lobby; one of the desks occupied by an officer who seemed to be taking a statement from a distraught father, his beat-up teenage son sitting next to him.

I haven't been past the front desk yet – every time I was in LA, I got as far as a desk sergeant who slapped the empty manila folder down for me to see how no progress had been made in eight years.

In fact, the very same desk sergeant who had assisted me two weeks ago, sighed as she looked up and obviously recognized me. The smile on her face faltered and she looked irate in the matter of seconds.

I hated LA.

"I remember you," Sergeant Williams mumbled.

I took in the features of the grey-haired lady, noticing for the first time she had wrinkles all over her face, making her look a lot older than she probably was. I couldn't imagine that stuck behind a desk was what she signed up for sixty years ago. Maybe she got injured on duty, or maybe she was just really too old to be out in the field.

I cleared my throat, offering a smile. "I'm here to see Detective Carlin." When an eyebrow shot into her hairline, I quickly added, "He's expecting me. Kyla Woods."

She mumbled something under her breath and picked up her phone, but it didn't bother me. Finally, after so many years, I'd get to sit down at one of those desks in the lobby, discussing my sister's case with someone who cared. Or maybe I'd even see what the rest of the station looked like.

"Detective Carlin will be with you shortly. Do you have some sort of identification on you? I need to give you a visitors' pass." I could tell she was irate that I finally got my way, but there was also some compassion in her eyes.

I swiftly pulled out my ID card from my backpack and handed it over, my hands trembling slightly from excitement. And anxiousness.

Eight years. Eight long years. And finally someone was willing to listen. Or talk. It had occurred to me that they could have bad news, the kind of bad news that would give me closure, but I refused to think that my sister could possibly be dead.

Sergeant Williams recorded my personal details into a log book, and then handed me my ID card back with a printed sticker, _Visitor_ taking up majority of the space. There was also a number, which I presumed was recorded into the log book next to my details.

"Just stick it on your chest. Detective Carlin is on his way."

By the time I was branded with the sticker, a young, slightly curled blonde-haired man appeared behind the desk sergeant. He had some stubble on his face, but his goofy-looking youth couldn't be hidden even if he tried. My guess was that he was in his late twenties. Definitely not thirty yet.

"Miss Kyla Woods?"

I offered a friendly smile, despite the sudden panic I felt. This was it, the moment of truth. "That's me."

"Come to the side door, I'll let you in." He moved to the far side of the wall where a glass door opened up into a cage-like entryway. A female police officer patted me down – as if I'd walk into a police station with a weapon – and let me through to the back of the front desks.

My eyes almost bulged out as I took in the scene in front of me. It really looked like a NASA center – desks neatly stacked in rows, state-of-the art computers and hundreds of manila folders cluttering what would otherwise be a very neat office. Further ahead were glass-paneled offices, slightly raised from the floor. Passageways on the left and right hand side probably led to interrogation rooms, holding cells, gyms and locker rooms. Everywhere I looked, there were officers dressed in uniform, scattering around like on the busy New York streets. Some smiled, others looked worried, a few officers even had heated arguments.

"I'm Detective Glen Carlin, we spoke on the phone?" He stepped in front of me, blocking my view of the amazing chaos in front of me. I never liked police stations. But there was something about this place… It was the promise of hope.

"Let's go to my office. Can I get you a coffee or something?"

He was quite the gentleman – totally not what I expected considering he looked so young and, well, incompetent almost.

"Uh, water?" I had to try and stay away from the caffeine while not exercising. The stress was already bad enough on my body without practicing yoga for a couple of days.

Detective Carlin nodded and sidestepped a couple of officers who greeted him, leading me to the raised glass-paneled offices. On our way he passed a vending machine and got me the water.

His office – open planned – was another thing that left me agape. I couldn't see it from where I stood earlier, but this office was equipped with countless wall-mounted screens, whiteboards, glass boards, all filled with mug shots, maps, photographs, information – it was quite an amazing experience. It felt like I had just walked onto the set of _Rookie Blue_ or something.

"Have a seat, Miss Woods." Detective Carlin pulled out a chair in front of a desk, most likely his, and sat down on the opposite side. It was drowning in paperwork and manila folders. On top of a stack in a little black tray, was Ashley's folder, a photograph stuck to the front with a sturdy paperclip. I've never seen that photo before.

He followed my gaze and grabbed the folder, placing it right in the middle of the desk, on top of another open file, making whatever he had in there visible to both of us.

"Miss Woods, first of all, I apologize that no-one has ever come back to you regarding this case. I understand you've been in LA a couple of times, it was noted here that you requested a second copy of the file just less than two weeks ago." He paused to take a sip of his coffee and then looked me straight in the eyes. I couldn't help but notice how incredibly blue his eyes were.

"I'm going to be very honest with you, we have no leads on this case. In the eight years that your sister, _half-sister_ , had been missing, very little had been done. I'm not trying to get your hope up here, I mean, eight years is a very long time." He offered a supportive smile. "But I do have some questions, a lot, actually, so if you are still interested, I can assist in between my caseloads to see how we can build up a proper file. Who knows, maybe we just come across something that might lead to your sister."

By the time he finished his coffee, my heart was hammering against my chest. Ashley wasn't dead. The worst that could have happened, didn't. So there was hope. Secondly, the police department had resources I didn't have. They had access to personal information, accounts, video footage, all kinds of things – maybe just one of those things could bring me closer to my sister's whereabouts.

I couldn't help but feel optimistic, even if he said I shouldn't get my hopes up.

"Now, I understand you've never actually met your sister. Is that true?"

I closed my eyes briefly and sighed with a nod. Every conversation started out like this. Already it made the police gave up. But Detective Carlin wasn't fazed by my helplessness.

"It's okay, nothing wrong with that. Have you met Ashley's parents? Maybe before, and after her disappearance?"

It was the same old questions that just never got recorded, leaving that manila folder empty for so many years. But as we went through the mundane routine questions, Detective Carlin wrote down every single detail I told him. He even went so far as to record our conversation. I didn't mind – I embraced it. For such a young detective, he didn't seem so incompetent anymore. It really looked like he wanted to help, even if it was eight years too late.

I appreciated the effort he put into it, though. It was the first time someone was willing to help – and for that I would forever be grateful.

"So, there's something I have to know. Why are you the only one still looking for Ashley?" Detective Carlin glanced back at the call sheet and single missing person report. "I mean, there's this," he picked up the report and waved it in the air, "which has been the only correspondence from Ashley's mother. And then there's this," picking up the long list of calls logged from the time I discovered my sister had gone missing.

I sighed, wishing I had the answers for him. Christine was very evasive when it came to the disappearance of Ashley. She either _really_ didn't care, or she was hiding something and was a brilliant actress at covering it up. I've been asking the same question for the past eight years, but up until today, no one was willing to listen to me.

"It's complicated. I mean, her mother is mean and she doesn't seem to care. You know ever since Ashley's disappearance, yesterday was the first time I got to meet Christine. She'd been avoiding me all these years, and I don't know if it's because she's upset that I had Ashley's inheritance frozen, or what her story is."

His brows raised at the mention of inheritance, and I knew he was wondering why this case was never pursued if there could be a motive other than Ashley being a run-away kid. "Tell me about the inheritance, what is that all about?" He clutched his pen, ready to jot down every bit of additional information I could offer.

I was just grateful that someone was finally listening. "When my dad – our dad – passed away, I found out that he left a huge chunk of inheritance in our names. That's how I found out who my father was in the first place - I got a call from his lawyers informing me of his death and that there was an estate to work through. And that's how I discovered I had a sister. So I made the trip down to LA to go see the lawyers and to meet Ashley."

I frowned, remembering that day so well. I was so excited, not about the money, but to meet my half sister who I never even knew existed. I was an only child growing up, so the thought of more family fascinated me. Imagine my disappointment when I arrived at the Davies-mansion only to find out through the help that Ashley went missing on her prom night, which at that stage was already a couple of months ago. The help offered me Christine's number but in the beginning she never even picked up. I went to the police station myself to find out if there had been a case opened, and to my great disappointment, was offered the very same empty folder the detective now had on his table.

"When I found out that she was missing, I came here and that folder was all they could help me with, after a huge fight, may I add, because I wasn't blood-related enough according to the desk sergeant." It was easy to laugh about it now, but back then it was frustrating and incredibly sad. It still made me sad.

"So how did you manage to have your sister's inheritance frozen?" the detective asked curiously.

I smiled, remembering how resourceful I became. Thanks to Ashley I obtained quite a bit of detective skills over the years. "It was simple, really. I asked for a copy of the missing person report and took it back to the lawyers. Then I got my own lawyer in New York to handle everything for me since it was impossible for me to jump on a plane to LA every time there were questions. It was the easiest way to get Christine's attention - she was livid, but still made no effort every time I tried to meet up."

Detective Carlin seemed slightly bothered by my recollection of what had happened. "I'll stop by and ask her some questions as well, is she still at the same address?"

I focused on the address recorded in Ashley's file. It was still the same place. Christine really took whatever she could from our dead father. "Yeah, same address. I was there yesterday."

"Did anything look suspicious to you?"

I frowned. It was eight years later – what would I even look for? "Nothing out of the ordinary. Ashley's room was left untouched." Except for the items I stole. "I took a couple of things though."

"Like?"

"Just her song book, and some photographs. It won't make any difference, would it? I mean, I don't have to hand it in, do I?" I would be very sad if I had to let those items go. Especially the song book. It felt like the only thing I could really figure out what was going on in my sister's head.

Detective Carlin gave a small smile. "No… I don't think so. Maybe let me just copy the photographs to put in her file, can't ever have enough of those."

I reluctantly shuffled through my backpack and handed him the photographs. The top one didn't even make sense, someone had taken a group photo from a high platform, catching only a couple of faces looking into the camera. Ashley was looking down, only the top of her head visible, her hair pulled back in a loose ponytail.

Detective Carlin got up and walked over to the copy machine just a few feet away, efficiently making copies as if he'd done this a million times. Sitting down again, shoving the copies into the file without a second glance, he handed me the originals, and faced me, his expression serious. "Look, Miss Woods, as I explained earlier, I don't want you to get your hopes up. Since the case was left for eight years, I doubt that we'll find your sister. But I'd like to try, to give you some closure at least. But it could take another eight years."

I didn't care. All I wanted was that someone finally look into the case. Interrogate Christine. Maybe lock her up for being such a careless bitch of a mother. "I understand. I'm just grateful that you're looking into this at all. What are the steps forward?"

He sighed and sat back in his chair, ruffling the hair in his neck. "Well, I need stop by the house where Ashley grew up. Speak to her mother. Speak to friends. I'll need to go to her school and see if any of her old teachers are still there and ask some questions – all of which I'm sure you've already done too. I need to do some character building; we have to try and establish if this was a runaway case, or possibly abduction. If it was abduction, there could be so many things – I mean, we're looking at human trafficking, ransom, revenge, the list goes on. If she ran away, it's quite obvious she didn't want to be found, but we could still try and trace her movements. It will take up some police resources, and once again, given the time this case had been stagnant, it won't be treated as life-threatening."

I tried to hang onto every word, questioning the validity to continue with the case, to continue the search. Already it seemed close to impossible after the detective mentioned but a handful of angles.

The truth was, Ashley could be anywhere. She could have left the States. She could be in Europe or Africa or on any other continent. But she could also be stuck in Christine's basement, being fed rice and chicken stock and water for the last eight years, for Christine to try and get her hands on Ashley's part of the inheritance money. That was a possible motive, wasn't it?

By the time I've shared everything I knew about Raife, Christine, the inheritance, and the little bit I've learned about Ashley while I was snooping around in her room, Detective Carlin had a whole handful of pages filled with notes. We had a file now. Not only a missing report anymore. It was enough for me to feel like there was finally some progress. Even if it was just more paperwork in that previously sad, empty manila folder.

My smile didn't feel forced anymore in this dreary LA.

"It was great meeting you, Kyla. Here's my card, you can send any information you have to the e-mail address listed there. And it's got my cell number and direct line – if you can think of anything else, don't hesitate to call me." He got up from his chair, picking the folder up to take with him.

I couldn't help but notice the case file underneath; the bank robbery and courthouse shooting in San Francisco a year ago. I wondered how an LA detective was involved in a case completely out of his jurisdiction. But I lost my train of thought as Detective Carlin reached out to his hand to show me the way out. I got up too and stepped out of the office, taking a last glance around, hoping the next time I came to LA, I'd see Ashley's photograph on one of the busy whiteboards, or screens, or at least, up where someone could see and remember her.

* * *

My flight back to New York was uneventful, it was just after 9PM when I got off the plane, but I was too skittish to be by myself or to try and sleep. So I decided to face Debbie away from the studio where she could possibly make clients feel uncomfortable by screaming at me for running off to LA like that, and offered to take her out for a drink at Jack's Bar.

It was fairly packed, and though I didn't personally enjoy that, I was glad for Jack that he had a solid customer base. It meant that he was making a living.

I ordered my usual whiskey on ice, and nurtured my drink while waiting for Debbie. My mind drifted to my meeting with Christine, and then Detective Carlin, and I couldn't help but wonder, and worry, more about Ashley. I wasn't sure if I was doing the right thing by trying to find her. Maybe Christine did have something to hide, maybe Ashley did run away. I couldn't bear the thought that she might have been kidnapped or was stuck in the mansion's basement for all these years. All I wanted was for her to be okay, wherever she was. She deserved as much, if not more.

"You are in so much trouble, Kyla Woods."

My thoughts were thankfully interrupted by a very angry-looking Debbie. But I could handle her. What I couldn't handle, was the waiting, _again_ , while Detective Carlin started investigating Ashley's case.

"Before you start yelling at me, have a peace offering drink." I motioned for Jack to pour Debbie her usual Vodka Martini. I watched her slide onto the bar stool next to me, sighing as she dropped her clutch on the counter.

Debbie stared at me, a look I knew all too well. She was waiting – impatiently – for my explanation. It was her way of telling me she was giving me a chance to explain my way out before her internal bomb set off and she'd start making me feel bad.

"There's been some progress on Ashley's case. Or not exactly _progress_ , but uhm, I finally got to speak to a detective who will be handling the case."

I held my breath, waiting for her reaction. Any reaction.

Debbie stared at me with a pained expression. "Ky, it's been eight years. Do you really think – "

"Stop." I held up my hand. "I know what you're thinking. I know chances are slim. The detective kept saying the same thing. But _he_ was the one who contacted _me_. We spent the entire morning building a case file. There's actually something in that folder now, Deb." Tears were sparkling in my eyes that I haven't even noticed were there before.

The past two days had been more emotional than I realized.

"Oh, Kyla, I'm so sorry for what you've been going through." She pulled me into a hug, surprising both of us. "There's not much I can do, but if there's _anything_ , you know I'm here for you, right? Even though I feel like wringing your neck for leaving _me_ to explain to your snobby New York housewives why they couldn't have their yoga fix for two days."

I chuckled in her embrace, feeling some of the tension leave my body at the familiarity of her concern and friendship. I didn't know how I would've gotten through the years without Debbie by my side.

"Thanks Deb, for everything. Things are going to be a bit tense for a while, you know, the waiting game all over again, but I appreciate it, I really do. I can't promise to not run off like that again, but I'll give you a head's up, and offer a voucher or something to the snobby NY housewives."

Debbie pulled back, her expression back to serious. It amazed me how she did that. "I really hope you find your sister, Kyla. And when you do, I hope she appreciates everything you've gone through the past eight years for her."

I couldn't help but smile tearfully. "I'm sure she will, Deb, I'm sure she will."

* * *

 **Wildflowers – Tom Petty**


	23. I fell in love with the DJ

**A/N : I feel honored to have so many readers and reviewers, thank you so much! Please support all the writers out there trying to keep the SON characters alive!**

 **I'm sorry this chapter didn't follow directly after CH22, life just has those odd curve-balls that sometimes come our way!**

* * *

 **Southtrash – CH22 : Aaaaw, I don't believe for a moment that your soul is empty – not after all the awesome reviews you've been giving! Things are about to get deeper in the next couple of chapters, so you might want to hold on to something! I wish I could send you something for that anxiety, maybe I can, in the form of a Spencer chapter… soon, very soon… I promise! ;) Thank you so much for reading and reviewing!**

 **Anjela78 – CH22 : Thank you, my birthday was on the 14th, and I had an amazing day and weekend prior, it always helps to celebrate with friends and family! I didn't cry as I thought I would, maybe I'm in denial that I'm older, or maybe it's just acceptance that it is what it is ;) I have definitely not forgotten about this story, and I will never abandon it, it may not take a couple of days or hours to finish it, but it is a story very close to my heart and I have every intention to see this through to the end! So you don't have to worry about that, ever ;) Glen… he is actually a difficult character for me to write, because he is more mature in this story and can't be the basketball star like in SON. I will try to bring some of his goofiness into the story, but given his occupation, I might just keep him as a decent grown man! Kyla and Glen will have to look at all the angles for Ashley's disappearance, Christine may or may not have something to do with it – money makes people greedy! All we can do is wait and see whether that was a probable cause. Debbie is a great friend, Kyla needs all the support she can get – I wouldn't have minded to have a sister like her too ;) I really liked her character in SON (except for the clubbing scene and getting involved with that lowlife Jake), so the plan is to make her stand out a little in this fic. I hope the wait for this chapter didn't feel too long, I am working around the clock to get more out, as quick and entertaining as humanly possible :) Thank you so much for all your reviews and reading my story! Enjoy ;)**

 **Kudos – CH22 : Your review turned me into mush, thank you so much for the kind words! It's a long fic, all the excitement is yet to come! So please keep on reading and thank you as well! I'll see about Magic Beans – I want to focus on this fic and not distract myself; I owe it to everybody who's been hanging onto every word – especially since the beginning when everything was confusing – to write an epic story and a well-worth-it ending. But I will consider Magic Beans after this. Thank you for reading and reviewing!**

 **Mellyb14 – CH22 : Thank you so much for your review! I'm glad you liked the chapter, I really want Kyla's story to touch everybody's hearts ;) Spencer… hmmm… I can actually see her first appearance coming over the horizon now… very soon, I promise! Thank you for reading and reviewing!**

 **GirlsOnly – CH22 : Thank you for the birthday wishes! Thank you for the compliments on the chapter, it's not easy mixing two storylines, but I believe the end result will be beautiful ;) The next chapter is Ashley's journey again, Spencer is close by, be on the lookout in future chapters! Thank you for reading and reviewing!**

* * *

 **Ashley**

 **I fell in love with the DJ**

I didn't expect to find myself back in New York so soon – if you disregard the three days it took to get there. By train. Leaving me utterly alone with my fears and thoughts for the first time in a while. It wasn't that I never had privacy, it was just the first time in a while I didn't have to worry about my ghosts and the constant pressure to get rid of them. But not having them with me exposed me to a new level of fear; the fear of being found. My paranoia levels rose tenfold, I nearly had an anxiety attack just booking my train ticket – Aiden's idea, as identification served merely to ensure I was in fact over eighteen and proof that I was legally a ticket holder. When I checked in, the lady behind the counter hardly noticed my panicked state as she gave me a once over and checked the photo on my ID. No verifications were done, unlike at the airport where I was surely by now on some red alert list, and they'd notice immediately the photo didn't belong to that particular ID.

The trip itself was torture, I hardly slept, and struggled to keep any food down. I felt nauseous. And cowardly. I didn't know if I could do this. Facing the ghosts were much easier than facing their beloved mourning families.

New York was still cold, but this time I came prepared, all the layers of clothes making it hard to breathe in the already uncomfortable situation I was in.

I was about to do something sickening. But it had to be done. It was too late to back out anyway, she had just spotted me. I followed Tracy Anderson with my eyes as she hesitantly stepped closer to the booth I got for us at a coffee shop not too far from the school where she was now a full-time teacher. I was thankful for the privacy the booth offered, but my eyes kept sweeping my surroundings. I couldn't see any surveillance cameras, one of the reasons I chose a smaller place that wasn't busy, and even stepping out into the street, there weren't CCTV systems up like in the busier part of the city. The barista seemed uninterested – typical students playing on their iPhones – which all worked in my favor. But I was still nervous. I was going to hell for this.

"Madison?"

I smiled at her, goosebumps covering my body as the name left her lips. My mind drifted to the fake ID of another dead person, temporarily, carefully covering my own fake ID in my wallet. Everything was fake. I stood up and offered my hand to formally greet her. "Tracy Anderson?"

She smiled, seeming anxious herself. Sliding into the booth, she clasped her gloved hands tightly in front of her, letting out a nervous sigh.

"I'm sorry about your husband, Tracy. He was a well respected man from what I heard from my colleagues," I offered.

Her eyes teared up immediately, of course she wouldn't have gotten over the death of Boz in less than two months. I reached into a pocket of my thick parka jacket, pulling out a tissue with my own gloved hands, and held it out towards her.

Tracy smiled and took the tissue, quickly wiping away the tears. "I'm sorry. It's still so hard. It hasn't sunk in yet."

"It's okay, take your time." I was definitely going to hell for this.

She took a deep breath and nodded, indicating that she was ready. "I've got all the paperwork here, I'm sorry it's a bit messed up. I never thought I'd ever have to look at it again." She reached into her thick coat and pulled out a catalog envelope, the center seam pulling apart from the amount of papers shoved inside.

I swallowed hard. I was endangering this woman's life by doing this. I was thankful that her son wasn't with her – I couldn't bear looking into his eyes knowing I took his father away from him, and put his mother's life in danger by trying to right my wrongs.

"Did you speak to Boz often? Or Sean, at least?" Tracy asked tearfully.

I searched my memory bank for the details Sean and Boz had offered while we built up my alias for this trip. "Boz, no. Sean was my boss, I didn't see him often, but he was a great guy. Very passionate about the case."

Tracy smiled sadly. "Yeah, Sean was always a very passionate guy. He got it from his grandfather. Boz was more like their grandmother, quiet, sweet, but fearless in his own way."

I regretted opening my mouth, but I couldn't help myself. The martyr in me wanted to feel the pain I've caused. "Tell me about Boz. Sounds like he was a great guy."

"We met at a party while studying at UCLA. I was in my second year for a masters degree in education. Boz had just applied to switch from sound engineering to auditing. He was a DJ at the party – which was what originally attracted me to him. He was so talented – I fell in love immediately." She paused at the memory, and I felt the sting. I didn't know that version of Boz. In fact, I didn't know _any_ version of him, except for the very sad ghost sitting at my condo without a bar or imaginary drinks to keep him company.

"I tried to talk him out of his decision to switch majors, but there was some pressure from his family I guess. His father was a well respected bookkeeper in their neighborhood all his life. He wanted Boz to follow in his footsteps."

I wondered for a fleeting moment if I ever went to college. And if I did, what it was like. What _I_ was like. What kind of things interested me enough to make a living out of it. Lacking memories of practically my entire life was depressing. I constantly felt like I didn't know who I was. Except for a cold-blooded killer.

"So he changed majors, but still took on gigs to make music. Our lives would have been so different… he'd still be here…" The tears were rolling again.

"I'm sorry, Tracy." It was all I could offer. If only she knew how sorry I _really_ was.

She looked up and smiled tearfully. "Thank you, Madison, for fighting for justice. If my son… if it weren't for Tucker, I would've sought justice myself. But I can't, it's hard already, so hard, to push forward every day knowing Boz won't come home." She wiped furiously at the constant flow of tears. "I really wanted to see those… _people_ go down, _with_ Boz. But at least his death will mean something if that can somehow still happen. I don't know how you're doing this, not fearing for your life."

I smiled ruefully. Tracy was giving me way too much credit. I was hardly fighting for justice – I was fighting for my own freedom. That thought alone made me feel like scum worse than the politicians.

"To be honest, I _am_ scared. But we have heroes among us who fought for other people's lives, and even animals and plants. I can only try to be half the person Boz and Sean were to continue what they started." The more I spoke, the worse I felt. I had to get out of here, out of New York, out of this life.

"You are a hero too, Madison. I really appreciate you coming all the way to New York to pursue this case. And I wish you all the best. I know we won't see each other ever again, but I'll keep my eye on the news."

Every time she said that name, I wanted to hurl. I was a terrible person. "It's the least I can do."

"Boz would've loved you, he got along well with people, and I just know he would've liked your company. Maybe in the afterlife, right?" Tracy's smile was genuine for the first time.

Mine got harder to maintain. "Yeah, maybe."

"Well," Tracy looked at her watch, that notorious thought-to-be-oblivious notion to end meetings, dates, or hookups. "Lunch break will be over in a couple of minutes, so I'll need to get going. Once again, Madison, thank you so much."

"No, thank _you_ , Tracy. I know it was risky for you to meet me, but I promise I will do everything in my power to get you the closure you deserve."

* * *

I considered it a brave move to step into the cozy bar again, considering people have seen me here before, including a girl that I had sex with in a surprisingly spotless stall. But I couldn't help myself, I craved the feeling of familiarity, even if it was just a rusty old bar with an aged but friendly barman. Anything familiar would do, I just needed something to keep me from slipping over the edge into a turmoil of uninvited emotions. Drowning my sorrows in alcohol wasn't the answer either, and given my recent injuries and necessity of medication, I couldn't really risk getting shit-faced. Not while being on the other side of the country, far from the comfort of my condo, where no-one would notice if something had to happen to me. But here, in public, I was always at risk. At risk of slipping up with words, being discovered, being recognized despite how careful my escape routes were, or ultimately, getting killed. That was the part I was scared of most. I carried the fear of an A7 sniper rifle cartridge penetrating my skull the same way I so callously pulled that trigger and planted the bullet in other skulls. Into skulls of people who didn't deserve it. Into skulls of people who cared about other people – heroes, as the fake Madison told Tracy earlier this afternoon.

The thought of using Madison as an alias just brought on an onset of unwanted tears and nausea. I ducked into the super clean restroom to save myself the embarrassment of breaking down in front of a bunch of strangers. Of course luck wasn't entirely on my side, just as I looked up in the mirror after splashing my face with cold water, green eyes stared back into mine.

Paige.

My stomach churned.

"Back so soon?" Her smile was soft, but not enough to warm my frosted heart.

I put on my best game face. Maybe a quick fuck would ease some of the overbearing tension squeezing my muscles into tight knots. "I was hoping to find you here tonight."

Paige's smile widened. She stepped closer, until her front was flush with my back. Her hands moved down to my hips, and I couldn't help but close my eyes and wish it could mean something. Anything. There had to be something better than this out there, someone who could make me feel. I wished my body was on a buzz instead of doing this sober. My mind wasn't in the right place. But I didn't stop Paige. It was too late anyway; I was already flushed, and giving myself something like blue balls on top of feeling so emotionally dilapidated wasn't something I was prepared to face. Not tonight. And not on a three-day train ride back to San Francisco.

So I took a deep breath and allowed the green-eyed brunette to repay the favor of our last encounter. I _was_ going to make her feel good, but right now, I was selfish, and needed release. It didn't happen this way often, but something was happening to me that was just too overwhelming to try and think it through.

We ended up in the same, meticulously clean stall as the previous time. Paige's lips were all over me, the same way her hands feverishly tried to rid me of all the layers of clothes. When she got to my tank top I regained some sense and stopped her. I didn't want her to see the bruises of the accident. My ribs looked way worse than it felt. I wasn't up for interrogation by a one night stand.

Paige didn't seem to mind. Instead, her hands just made its way under the top, softly caressing over my burning, bruised skin. I felt the goosebumps covering my torso and wished for the second time that I was drunk. I didn't want to feel anything emotionally. But my mind had other ideas. Between the sadness and regret I also felt selfishly needy. I wanted to be _wanted_ by someone. I wanted to go home after a long day at work and feel hands all over me, cheering me up, making me feel better. It wouldn't take much. And I'd gladly repay the gesture tenfold.

"Where's your head at, stud?"

Her voice barely broke through the haze of emotions. I was suddenly aware of a warm hand cupping my cheek, thumb below my eye, wiping away a dampness I hadn't realized was there.

I felt heat rush up to my cheeks. Ashley Davies, cold-hearted sniper never blushed. But here I was, almost unable to hold myself together. _Almost_.

I offered a faint smile. "Sorry, it's just been a long day."

I wondered why Paige was single and always hanging around in this bar after her lips gently brushed away the last tear. She deserved someone who treated her gently, like she was treating me. Who was selfishly only here for a feel-better-fuck.

"Let me make it better for you." Her lips were close to my ear, one hand still cupping my cheek while the other roamed to my heated, and probably wet, center. My knees went weak as she held still for a moment, as if giving me a chance to think it over.

As if.

I pushed into her hand, letting her know I was ready to just forget for a while what it was like to live in the world outside that sterile bathroom stall. And then I planned to make her forget what it was like to live on this planet after I was done with her.

* * *

I was nervous. My hands were shaking slightly as I opened my little notebook and scanned the instructions Monica had given me. I didn't have a lot of time, which wasn't a problem – it was what was going to save me. But I was still nervous, still paranoid, as I sat in a coffee shop adjacent to the skyscraper belonging to Paterson & Hughes. With Monica's help, I learned how to change my computer name, and how to mask both my IP and MAC address. The IP address wasn't such a big issue as it changed every time, something to do with a dynamic protocol and other big words Monica loved to use in her over complex but cute sentences. I wondered how the raven haired girl was doing and if I should grab her a souvenir at the station to say thanks for covering for me for two days.

 _Get your head in the game, Davies._

Right. Back to my mission. After going through the paperwork Tracy had given me, I'd come across the list of login details and passwords, with compliments of Boz, so this was genius, really. I changed my computer name to Logan Jones, Boz's immediate supervisor, and once the WiFi signal indicated that I was within good radius to piggyback onto Paterson & Hughes wireless infrastructure, I logged in with Logan's password. I made a mental note to ask Boz why he had this list in the first place. It was grounds for immediate dismissal.

Once connected, I knew I didn't have a lot of time. If anybody were to check the admin page of the router they'd see there were two Logan Jones logged in simultaneously. All they had to do was disconnect and I'd be out. But this wasn't the part I was worried about.

I opened my browser and typed in the address to Paterson and Hughes' intranet homepage, once again, using Logan's login details to gain access into the company's infrastructure.

My palms started getting sweaty the moment a page opened up, welcoming me as Logan. Just below the user avatar were statistics that made my blood freeze. _Last login time, 09:32AM_. Surely he was going to notice _sometime_ that he didn't log in right now. I took a deep breath and forced myself not to worry about that right now. I only had a couple of minutes before I could potentially be discovered. That, and my train back to San Francisco was due to leave in about fifty minutes. Which left me with fifteen to do what I needed to do and then get the hell out of here.

It took me a minute or so to familiarize myself with the page and to navigate to the information I was seeking. Logan had definitely been keeping an eye on his subordinate right up to the day I pulled that fateful trigger on Boz. He had logs on Boz's logins, his whereabouts and which computers he used to log in. He even had a folder named Boz on his allocated cloud space. There wasn't enough time to go through everything, so I just copied the folder to my hard drive, and navigated to the pages where Boz had instructed me to pull information from. I had a feeling that I'd be back in New York again in a week or two. Logan wasn't very good at hiding things – it was evident that he was involved in the order on Boz's life. I just hoped that things stopped there and they wouldn't try to go after Tracy or Tucker. You never know.

Once the folder was done copying, and I had pulled all the information Boz and Sean requested, I disconnected from the WiFi and slammed the lid of my laptop shut, eager to make a run for it. A quick glance at the clock behind the till counter eased my nervous a smidge, knowing I had enough time to get to the station and hopefully not miss my train. Getting stuck in New York for a second longer than necessary would prove very detrimental to my mental health. I was relieved that the barista of this coffee shop seemed as uninterested in their customers as the one in the shop I'd met Tracy. I paid the bill, left a small tip, and rushed out without a second glance. They probably had business people rushing in and out the entire time.

Boz was right, the station was a nightmare, departures were way busier than arrivals, and I nearly panicked again, fearing that I'd be stuck in New York. But everything went smooth, from checking in and handing security my fake ID of a dead Madison Duarte, all the way to settling into my pre-booked roomette with a relieved sigh. The tension only really dissipated once I felt the pull of our cars and the train started picking up speed, soon basking the cars in sun as we left the station at noon.

The trip itself was exhausting. I was exhausted. But my mind was too active for my tired body, so I ended up browsing through the paperwork Tracy had given me. Records of illegal transactions. Paperwork pertaining to the illicit company Polit-Enterprises. Copies of ID's of all the politicians involved. Bank statements. The login details and passwords that I've already used. And Boz's contract of employment with Paterson & Hughes. I already had my suspicions of his immediate supervisor, Logan Jones, and was eager to know Boz's thoughts on him.

Boz Anderson.

I finally leaned back on the bunk, taking deep breaths as I thought about Boz and his wife, and their son Tucker. I had done such a horrible thing, tearing that little family apart. Tracy was clearly still heartbroken, and I remembered noticing how she struggled between pain and anger. Anger that should have been directed towards me. Instead I chose the cowardly way out and went undercover as Madison, pretending to bring the politicians to justice and find out who killed her husband.

I was sick.

This whole thing was just sick. For a moment I considered giving up and give in to medication to rid myself of these painful hallucinations, but then I remembered that broken woman's words, and my chest tightened so rapidly I could hardly breathe. _"You are a hero too, Madison."_ Was I really a hero for seeking revenge? Justice? Freedom? Freedom for _myself_?

I found myself wondering what the Anderson's lives would have been like if Boz never changed majors. If he had become a sound engineer, and doing what he loved. Doing what made Tracy fall in love with him in the first place.

And then I found myself wondering again who I was. Who was the person beneath the layers of agent Ashley Davies, cold-hearted killer? And was that person _so_ bad that no-one even bothered to come looking for her after just disappearing into a world of crime and solitude? Was there anybody out there even looking for me, the old me – whoever that was?

* * *

 **I fell in love with the DJ – CheNelle**


	24. Never saw blue like that

**A/N: I've officially reached 100 reviews – thank you all so much for reading this fic and my dedicated reviewers – you are all truly amazing!**

* * *

 **Southtrash – CH23 : I can't wait to fix your soul then… all I can say is… read and enjoy! Thank you so much for reading and reviewing!**

 **Guest – CH23 : Spencer's first appearance is closer than you all think! Enjoy the chapter and thank you for reading and reviewing!**

 **SonFan – CH23 : I'm really glad you're loving this story! It's my favorite – I know that's pretty much biased but of all the ones I've done so far, the experience of this fic has been amazing. And a lot of that is because of my readers! So thank you, for reading and reviewing!**

 **TheDWall – CH23 : Wow, your review had me read it over and over again. And over again. That was some truly amazing words, thank you so, so much! The chapter titles/songs – it's my pride in this story – it really did take a while to get the right songs and even as time goes by I find even more! Some I even replace, but for the better. Hope you're building up a playlist! ;) Really, thank you for the super awesome review I truly appreciate it! And thanks for reading and reviewing!**

 **Anjela78 – CH23 : Happy (belated) Easter to you too! Ashley is going to feel a lot in the next couple of chapters – she is human after all. So it's time… I hope you're going to enjoy this chapter! Lots of excitement waiting! Thank you for reading and reviewing!**

 **Daniellelambert76 – CH23 : Thank you for reading and the review! There is plenty more to come, this is quite a long story, and it will not be abandoned, that is a promise!**

 **GirlsOnly – CH23 : Thank you for the compliment! Yes, Ashley is starting to grow a conscience now that she's not with the Agency anymore… only time will tell how she deals with everything! Thank you for reading and reviewing!**

 **CeSB – CH23 : I'm grateful for your review – even if it is in your native language! Thank you so much for the compliment! This is a Spashley fic so Spencer will definitely be in the story, and I appreciate that you're keeping on reading even without Spencer in it for now! I will not leave the story without finishing – I have far too much invested in this plus I really enjoy writing, something serious has to happen before I'd ever stop! So don't worry about this story not getting an ending!**

* * *

 **Ashley**

 **Never saw blue like that**

 _23:45PM_

I opened one eyelid and glanced at the glaring red digits of my alarm clock, feeling relief wash over me at the same time I groaned, grumpy that I woke up in the first place. I only managed to sleep about three uninterrupted hours since I got home from New York, and my body was painfully reminding me that I needed plenty more. Physical exhaustion was rapidly becoming my best friend, and I knew it was unhealthy, and probably dangerous for me considering I was still covered in bruises and suffered painful headaches every so often.

But that was the least of my worries. I was more concerned about the lack of ghosts in my living room upon my return. Though I should have been ecstatic – maybe they were gone for good, but I couldn't help but worry. What if someone was in my condo while I was gone? What if something was wrong with me – what if the headaches were actually worse than I thought and I had to go back to hospital? Or what if they were all hallucinations after all, and I was getting better? That was something to be happy about, wasn't it?

It would mean I didn't have to kill more people after all. I wouldn't have to go back to New York, or Los Angeles, or any other city I've been in, and I could just burn all the research in my office and happily move on with my life. Or start it. _Whatever_.

It would also mean that I would break my promise to Tracy Anderson. And her son. And ultimately to all the widows or parents or children of the people's lives I took. Even though I didn't make any promises to them, I'd still be letting them down. And Arthur Carlin, and even Chelsea Lewis, despite being clueless about my profession. And myself.

I sighed.

Against my will, I wished my ghosts would come back.

 _01:13AM_

I found myself groaning again. Just when I thought I'd settled into a decent slumber, something woke me. _Something woke me._

I jolted up with the realization, my heart hammering against my chest as I thought of the possibility of something or some _one_ in my condo. It could be someone from Paterson  & Hughes – maybe they found out I'd hacked into their system and stole information. Or maybe they hired someone from the Agency to come after me. Or maybe it _was_ someone from the Agency, coming for me – expected to finish the job Carmen Mendez and Jake Kessler couldn't do.

I tried to take deep breaths to calm myself down, at the same time listening carefully to ascertain if there was any movement in the house.

 _01:15AM_

Silence.

Except for my rapid heartbeat. I was sure a trained assassin would hear it from another room. I was paralyzed with fear. My rifle was hidden away in a closet, carefully wrapped up in a towel, disbanded. There were no indication of my ghosts casually talking until morning hours like they usually did when they were here.

 _01:20AM_

All I could hear was silence.

* * *

 _"Get away from me."_

 _"Stop. Could you at least talk to me?"_

 _"I have nothing to say to you."_

 _"Nothing happened."_

 _"Look I know what I saw and what I felt all along. Don't treat me like I'm stupid."_

 _"I don't think you're stupid. I love you."_

 _"You're not allowed to say that to me right now, okay?"_

 _"Where are you even going?"_

 _"Wherever you aren't."_

* * *

 _05:54AM_

Going from too much sleep to little or no sleep was a bitter adjustment. Ironic now that I needed it, it wouldn't come to me. It left me in a terrible mood; depressed and confused about everything, yet just wanting to get everything behind me and move on. And figure out who I was. The snippets of dreams weren't helping either. This was the second time I had a dream where I was clearly being a jackass to someone. Nothing new there. I just wished I could see that person's face. I desperately wanted to know who she was. I sighed as I waited the couple of minutes before the alarm would blare and wake up the entire house. I wondered for a fleeting moment if my ghosts had returned, but the moment the alarm clock went off, Aiden appeared in my door.

Not the first ghost I wanted to see, but oh well. I was already annoyed anyway.

"Where were you last night?"

I watched him lean against the door and shrug. "We went out. Figured you needed time alone."

I couldn't help but give a cynical laugh. "You don't think six days on a train was enough?"

"You're going through a difficult time, Ashley. We're just trying to be supportive."

I sat up, feeling my temper flare. I knew if it was Sean, Boz or even Sasha who said the exact same thing I wouldn't have been so upset, but Aiden just constantly pushed my buttons the wrong way. " _Difficult time?_ What do _you_ know about going through a difficult time?"

"You're forgetting that I was a killer once too, Ashley."

Wrong button. "Oh yeah? And how did you feel going to dead people's spouses and tell them that you're sorry, but you'll find whoever took their loved ones away? Oh, wait, you never had to do that!"

"I never got the chance to!"

Ouch.

My heart clenched and it felt like I had just been punched in the chest. I stared at Aiden, feeling guilt wash over me as I remembered what he had done for me. I remembered how he had gone through the trouble to ensure I had cash and fake ID's, he even stole a car for me to get away.

Aiden ran a hand through his perfect Ken-doll hair, resting it in his neck. I could see he was struggling with words but I knew what he was going to say. Of course he had to say it, Sean and Sasha was right behind him, probably wondering what the screaming match was about so early in the morning. "Look, I'm sorry – "

"Don't." I held up my hand to stop him. "Don't apologize. I shot you, okay? And I'm sorry I did it! I'm sorry I killed all of you!"

They stared at me in silence while I desperately wiped away the angry tears. It seemed to happen often lately. I finally looked up, my heart dropping at the sight in front of me. My ghosts were speechless, probably because it was the first time I told them I was sorry. The first time I apologized for _anything_ , really.

It just made me feel worse.

I couldn't deal with this today. I glanced at the alarm clock, already ten minutes late. I still needed to go for a jog, get back and shower, and head down to the coffee shop before 9AM. So I ignored the ghosts still frozen in my door, got out of bed, and silently retreated to my bathroom to shower and get dressed for my morning jog.

I just hoped the run would help clear my head, and emotions. I couldn't afford to get fired on top of everything else.

* * *

It was a slow day, business only started picking up towards closing time. I hated when that happened, but at the same time I was grateful to be distracted until we finally closed up. During weekdays we only saw the assistant manager at night, when he came to lock up. It was only myself and another guy on duty; Monica had the week off since she covered for me while I was in New York, and I'd probably only see her during the weekend or next week if we got paired together. I only saw the owner once, when I came for my interview. He wasn't too concerned about my lack of skills as a barista, I think I got the job solely because of the way I looked. The coffee shop catered to beach goers after all. Dylan, the waiter on duty with me was a seasoned surfer, and Monica wasn't bad looking either. I came to the conclusion that we were all hired because we were hot.

Not that I minded - we attracted a lot of other good looking people, people who I needed to befriend so I could get my emotional imbalance sorted out. And the only way I ever knew how, was well... sex never killed anyone, did it?

"Ashley, when you're done mopping the floor, you can go."

I looked up at Brad, taking in his features. He was young, still in his late twenties, but looked as tired as I was. I wondered if studying that MBA was worth everything he was feeling right now. Curiosity got the better of me and I offered a smile. "Thanks, Brad. Studying late tonight?"

We all had it lucky at the coffee shop. Even Brad. It was an extra income while he was making his dreams come true. The same for Monica, she was in her third year studying some computer science degree. Dylan had things easy – he surfed for a living. And while he cashed in big winning competitions, he wasn't ready to go on tour just yet. So he kept himself busy at the coffee shop while always having a great view of the beach break not too far from us.

And then there was me. I had no direction in life. I didn't know what I liked, I didn't know who I was. I had a mission to kill people in order to free myself from already dead people. Who knew where that was going to take me.

But I liked working at the coffee shop, for now. I liked the interaction with humans, I even liked when people stared at me longer than they should – especially women. But sometimes paranoia kicked in and I couldn't help but worry if someone was onto me. It was the one part about this job that I would always regret. The fear of being found.

And with that in mind, I knew after getting rid of my ghosts, I would have to move on and get out of San Francisco. Maybe even out of the States.

"Yeah, just a couple more nights then finals are over, for now. Come on, let's go," Brad interrupted my thoughts, and being the gentleman he was, he let me out first before locking the door.

"See you tomorrow, Ashley," he smiled as he turned and walked towards the parking lot.

I smiled sadly, wishing life was as simple for me too. "Yeah, see you tomorrow."

I wasn't ready to face my ghosts yet, even though I missed them at the house last night. I just knew we'd have to jump into things and discuss the New York trip. And I'd have to face Boz, and tell him how sad his wife was. I just wasn't ready.

So I decided to take a stroll on the beach, it was still fairly light, the sun just setting over the horizon. It was a beautiful night out – chilly enough to make me zip up my hoodie, but not too cold to keep everyone indoors. I was actually surprised by the number of people on the beach. It felt nice – I didn't feel so utterly alone. I'd almost say there was a bit of normalcy to it, taking a walk on the beach during sunset. It made me feel just a little less out of place.

Ten minutes later I found myself under a pier, taking a short break before having to head back home. Watching the sun set over the ocean was mesmerizing. I closed my eyes and let my senses take over, enjoying the cold sand covering my feet, slipping graciously through my fingers as I drew senseless patterns, and cold underneath my jeans. But a soothing cold. There was a slight breeze, carrying the scent of water and salt, a distinct smell that only the ocean could ever produce. But the sound was the most soothing. I listened to the ocean breathe, waves crashing softly against the beach and the pillars of the pier. As soon as the waves broke, the ocean retracted the remains as if taking a deep breath, ready to spill it all back out again. It was low tide, so the water wasn't rough, and the breathing was gentle and consistent.

It stayed like that for a few minutes until my body tensed automatically, sensing someone close by. I could hear soft footsteps. And finally sniffing in the cool air.

I opened my eyes, taking a second to adjust against the darkened sky. And then another second to adjust to sight in front of me, blocking my view of the ocean.

She looked like an angel. Wet, blonde hair cascading off her bare shoulders, eyes bluer than the sky. A slight frown creased her forehead as she stared down at me.

"You know it's not safe for a girl to sit alone out here in the dark." Her voice was low, sounding almost… sad.

I frowned. She was warning _me_ while _she_ went swimming in the icy water all by herself? "Uhm, then what are you doing here?"

She finally smiled and sat down next to me. "Keeping you company until you need to go."

Hundreds of thoughts ran through my brain, pulling at emotions I didn't know existed. It was brazen of her to think I wanted company, _her_ company, but I was so taken by her beauty that I couldn't get myself to ask her to leave. My heart rate had picked up and my palms were sweaty, like a teenage boy on his first date.

"Aren't you cold?" She was soaking wet, the tank top and jeans clinging to her skin not helping any. Before I could stop myself, I took off my hoodie and draped it across her wet shoulders.

She smiled shyly. "Thank you." I watched her hug herself into the soft, warm fabric, and felt warmth spread across my own body.

"Why did you go swim with your clothes on?" I had no idea how to start a decent conversation with this girl without tripping over my words. She looked strangely familiar, but without a memory of my past life, I couldn't really place her.

Her smile turned sad. "I was hot. I've been on the beach the whole day, I felt lost. And then I lost track of time."

I knew everything about feeling lost. It was the exact same reason I was here now. I dared to glance at her, finding her stare at the now dark ocean. The only light offered to us was from the half moon, and dim street lamps on top of the pier. It still made her look angelic.

"Do you live close by?"

My question brought back a faint smile. She looked at me, the sadness still sparkling in her beautiful eyes. "I do, just down the road."

I felt a smile creep up my own face. "Oh? So do I!"

"Do you come here often?"

I thought about it for a second. "I jog on the beach every morning, but this has been the first time I just took a walk. I just recently moved here, so…"

"I've been in this area for a while. Just over a year. Where are you originally from?"

 _Shit_.

"LA." I couldn't get myself to make something up, but was suddenly very aware of how difficult I found it to lie to this girl. There was something about her that made my heart feel warm, made me feel at ease. But there was also something that made me worry. Why did she look so sad? And _familiar_?

"The City of Angels."

 _Oh, God. Does she know who I am?_ I was starting to freak out.

"Yeah…"

"It's the Spanish name. For Los Angeles. Angeles mean angels." Her smile was confident now.

"What are you, a Spanish teacher or something?"

She chuckled, but the sadness was back instantly. "No, nothing like that. What do you do?"

"I asked you first."

She sighed and scooped up sand in her hand, letting it flow through her long, pianist fingers with cool white skin and red knuckles. To the touch, they seemed soft but cold. "Still figuring it out."

If only she knew how much I could relate. "You?"

"I work at the coffee shop down on Main. But also, still kindof figuring things out."

"What made you move from LA to Frisco?"

I couldn't help but laugh at her persistence. "Aren't these generally first and second-date questions?"

Her shy blush was adorable. She hunched her shoulders and cowered away into my hoodie, hiding her flushed face from me. It made me want to pull her into my arms and protect her from whatever was making her so shy and sad at the same time.

It was an odd feeling to me. I've never felt this way about someone before. Girls, to me, was just an outlet, a hobby, a pass-time. I didn't date, I couldn't ever see myself in a relationship with someone. Not in the near future anyway. How would I even begin to tell them what I really did for a living? And going into a relationship starting with lies were not a good thing either.

 _Wait, relationships?!_

I almost snorted at myself, letting these absurd thoughts run through my mind. Where did that come from, anyway? I'd never thought about being with someone ever before.

But there was something about this girl…

I found her staring at me, her gaze soft. It made me blush in return. "What?"

"You're really pretty." For someone so shy, she was definitely not shy to speak her mind.

"Thank you… so are you."

Even her laugh was angelic. "I look like a wet dog – there's nothing pretty about that."

"Let me be the judge of that."

Our eyes met, and for the first time she was able to hold my gaze without shying away. Soon it became a game and we bet on who would look away first.

I won every time, holding on for as long as I could, trying to read behind the sadness in those incredible blue orbs. But I was too scared to ask her why, scared that she'd ask the exact same thing – and it wasn't something I was prepared to answer. I had a feeling she felt the same way.

We held each other's gaze for the tenth time nonetheless. It went on for seconds, into minutes, and I was sure my body leaned closer to hers, until other voices interrupted us. And a barking dog.

I looked up, my body tensing as two uniformed officers approached us. "Everything okay here, ma'am?" The service dog was barking uncontrollably – probably because it was dark out and it didn't know that we were far from threatening. Well, me, not so much, but the girl –

She was gone.

"I uh…" I was flabbergasted. How did she disappear like that? And why? I rubbed my bare shoulders, suddenly feeling incredibly cold and sad. "Yeah, I'm okay. Was just jogging and took a break."

The officer without the dog stepped closer, his flashlight sweeping over me and my immediate surroundings. "It's not safe out here by yourself, do you need company back to the main road?"

I offered a brave smile and stood, making a point of it to rid myself of as much sand as possible. "No, it's okay, thanks – I live just up the road."

"You be safe now, and don't walk around by yourself after dark." The friendly officer tipped his head and they moved on, their flashlights and excited dog ensuring a strange sense of safety on the beach. I followed them with my eyes until I couldn't see them anymore, wondering where the girl ran off to. And why.

Maybe she was running away from cops, the same I should have been doing.

It made me want to know everything about her even more.

* * *

 **Never saw blue like that – Shawn Colvin**


	25. The ghost of you

**A/N: Does it make me a terrible person if I tell you I had this chapter ready for posting with the previous one… but I couldn't resist waiting to see your reactions on CH24?!**

 **You are all super awesome! Thank you so much for reading and reviewing and sharing your thoughts!**

* * *

 **GirlsOnly – CH24 : Yes… I know I didn't technically say her name in the chapter, but yes, it was Spencer. Are you all happy now? ;) Enjoy the next chapter, I know it's going to be a game changer! Thank you for reading and reviewing!**

 **Guest – CH24 : Okay, I won't tell you… you're just going to have to keep on reading to find out ;) Perhaps sooner than you think. Thank you for reading and reviewing!**

 **Southtrash – CH24 : Aaaw, don't be sad! Maybe the next chapter will cheer up (and confuse) that broken soul a little. I'm so glad you caught on to the chapter title – when I found the song (thanks Dawson's Creek!) I just knew it was going to be the introduction to Spencer! Like it was written for her! Looks like it worked :) Thank you for reading and reviewing!**

 **Totaleclipse9110 – CH24 : I hope I posted it soon enough (though it could have been sooner! Bohahaha) Thank you for the compliments, I really appreciate that! I know it's an awfully long story but in the end it's not only about the idea and the story, it's also about the process and interaction with all you awesome readers/reviewers! Thank you for reading and reviewing!**

 **K1989 – CH24 : Interesting take, all I can tell you is read on! Plenty of chapters to go! Thank you for the compliment! And thanks for reading and reviewing!**

 **SonFan – CH24 : The answer to that question lies in the remaining 55 chapters, or perhaps the very next one ;) Thank you for reading and reviewing!**

 **Guest – CH24 : I'm 100% sure this is a Spashley fanfic… the same way I'm 100% sure I may have mentioned right in the beginning that this is going to be a very long fic. I'm sorry you feel I'm wasting my readers' time and that you perceive this story as garbage. So I won't be wasting any more of your time : If you don't like it, don't read it. Thank you for reading and sharing your thoughts.**

* * *

 **Kelly**

 **The ghost of you**

The all too familiar _beep_ of my alarm clock did nothing to make me feel better, except that I could finally get up and put the nightmare of a night behind me. I barely closed my eyes, the tossing and turning keeping me awake most of the time. Okay, it wasn't exactly the tossing and turning – more the _cause_ of that.

I sat up with a heavy sigh, daring myself to glance at the open ring box on my nightstand. I'd worked so hard for that ring. For this relationship. I understood now why the old tale went that you should never go to bed angry. God, we weren't even married yet – I haven't even _proposed_ yet, and here we were, sleeping in separate beds – separate houses.

"Pull yourself together, Kelly."

Under normal circumstances the pep talks helped.

But not today.

Not only did the fight with Spencer completely break me, I was now also unsure about that ring, waiting patiently for the inevitable. I was supposed to propose tonight.

I took a deep breath, remembering the good times. We'd been together for three years already. Her parents were ecstatic. My parents were over the moon. They loved Spencer as much as I believed her parents loved me. We were perfect for each other.

So why did we fight about everything all of the sudden?

I closed my eyes and rubbed my temples tentatively, trying not to spur on the headache hammering softly behind closed lids. I knew why we were fighting, I just didn't know how we were going to get past it.

All my life I knew what I wanted, I had a Masters in Business Administration, and some people frowned upon me choosing my business skills to run a florist shop. But not only one… I had successfully opened ninety-eight shops across the States, backed with a finance from the government and a handful of successful businessmen and politicians. I also held a degree in horticulture, having learned how to cultivate the flowers I sold for as long as possible. My parents always told me to follow my gut, so I did.

I didn't sit in an office all day, barking out orders to subordinates. I had my own little branch in San Francisco, where I personally opened and closed every single day.

Spencer didn't understand why I did that, despite saying over and over she did for the three years we'd been together. And like her, I didn't understand why she did what she apparently loved, even though I convinced her that I did, for the three years we'd been together.

It was work. Always about work. That's how the fights started.

Neither of us liked what the other did. Why it mattered I had no idea.

But despite that, the love we had for each other was phenomenal. We were a power couple – not that it mattered – and we made it work.

And that's what I had to do tonight. I had to make it work. I already asked parents. Everything was planned, paid for. Everybody knew, except Spencer. I couldn't back out now.

I picked up the ring and smiled, hoping it was everything she'd ever dreamed of. We did look at rings on odd occasions, throwing hints to each other here and there, until two weeks ago, I found the ring that was just… Spencer. And I knew it was time.

All I had to do now was suck up, apologize, and get engaged to the woman of my dreams.

Spencer was remarkable. She was a very intelligent, strong woman. But she had her soft side, her shy side. I loved when she blushed. It was easy for her to make friends, though. People were just drawn to her in a way I couldn't describe. I guess we met the same way – I was drawn to her the moment I first saw her in that bar. She was with her brother, trying to grab the barman's attention. I chuckled to myself, remembering that I thought he was her boyfriend.

I let out another heavy sigh. We were still the same people we were back then, all we had to do was get past our career differences. I set the ring back in the box and checked my phone, my heart skipping a beat when I realized it was flickering with unread messages. Unread messages from Spencer.

 **06:01AM – Spencer : I'm sorry, I overreacted. Can we talk, please?**

 **06:02AM – Spencer : Hardly slept last night, I can't do this without you Kel.**

 **06:04AM – Spencer : I love you. Please say something?**

It was already 7AM, she was probably in tears by now. I noticed the two missed calls and slapped my forehead, remembering I switched my phone to silent after I stormed into my empty apartment. I didn't know why I did that – I was the one who always reprimanded Spencer when she did that, fearing that something might happen and we couldn't get hold of each other.

I hit the dial button before I could even think of an apology.

 _"Kel?"_ Her voice sounded thick with tears.

"Spence, God, I'm so sorry."

 _"No, I'm sorry. I'm sorry for saying all those terrible things and making you drive and for making you switch off your phone and – "_

My heart broke. This was the soft side of Spencer. The side people didn't get to see anymore – because of her stupid job. "Spence, stop. I was an idiot, okay? Can you meet me at the shop later? I have a surprise for you."

She chuckled, and I fell in love with her all over again. _"Giving me flowers from your flower shop is hardly a surprise, Kel."_

I laughed too, she always used that line. I never gave her flowers for that very specific reason. But part of me always wanted to – and I was going to start tonight. If one of us had to change to start making things better, I would be the big girl and do so. But meeting at the shop was merely to hand her a formal dinner invitation. And apologize profusely for fighting and storming out on her.

"Nope, we're out of flowers today. You'll just have to come and see what's in store."

 _"I love you, Kelly. And I'm sorry."_ Her voice wasn't as choked up anymore, it was the strong Spencer regaining grip on herself, almost making me miss that beautiful shy version of her.

"I love you too, Spence. And I'm sorry too. I'll make it up to you, I promise."

* * *

My nerves were getting the better of me today. I checked my watch for the millionth time, then my phone, then watched the door, waiting for the bell to give away the presence of visitors, but no matter how many times or how long I stared, there was just no sign of her. She was already an hour late, and it wouldn't leave her with much time to get ready for the big night ahead.

And because we haven't really resolved the issues of the previous night, I was still edgy, and getting even more so. It soon turned into anger when I realized Spencer was now two hours late. Without as much as a phone call.

I grabbed my phone off the counter and lost control of my fingers typing furiously, asking where she was.

 **15:12PM – Spencer : I'm so sorry, still stuck at the office. Big things happening, I won't make it.**

I was livid. And extremely disappointed. And after telling her that, I expected an outburst, much the same as we already had less than twenty four hours ago, but this time, Spencer apologized even more.

 **15:15PM – Spencer : Please can I make it up to you? I'll make dinner reservations at your favorite restaurant for tonight? I won't blow you off Kel, I promise.**

I almost felt like cancelling everything altogether, but remembered my resolve to start making a change.

 **15:16PM – Kelly : Already made reservations. Was part of the surprise. Just meet me at The Chef's at 8PM. Don't be late.**

 **15:17PM – Spencer : The Chef's? Are you for real? OMG I love you I love you I love you!**

My heart warmed and I smiled, trying to imagine her reaction. The Chef's was her favorite restaurant. We only went there once, I didn't want her to get used to it and not have special places to take her to. She was probably going to wonder how I got reservations as it was always fully booked weeks in advance. What she didn't know is I was _one_ of those people who did the booking- thing for a change.

I just hoped she was going to make it on time. Or knowing Spencer lately, hoping she'd make it at all.

"Miss Kelly?"

I looked up from my phone, forcing a smile onto my face. I didn't want my staff to see that I had personal problems.

"Peter?"

"We've got a delivery, but the truck is too big for the front. I'm not sure what we should do."

And this was why I loved being on the floor, with my staff. To be a florist you had to be totally committed, and there wasn't a lot of us out there. So the kids I employed were all still in college, and by the looks of it, not ready to go out into the big world yet. Problem solving just didn't come with theoretical experience. It was a practical thing, and you had to live it every day to be good at it.

"Okay, you can man the counter for a bit, I'll go help them outside." I removed my green florist apron to reveal a green halter top and faded jeans. I wasn't trying to blend in with the plants, Spencer actually loved the color on me. With my long black hair and green contacts, I knew how to make her swoon. At least, it did, three years ago. Now I wasn't so sure anymore.

A quick glance at my watch, and I realized why I was still edgy. It was almost 4PM. One more hour and I had to rush home, get ready, and get to the restaurant by 7PM to set up the table and ensure everything was running smoothly before Spencer got there.

And judging by the delivery truck that just blocked the entire entrance, I was starting to worry that _I_ might be the one who was going to be late. "Peter, close up, and call everyone to come and help. We'll bring everything in through the alley entrance." I was going to lose an hour of business, but I was _not_ going to lose the love of my life tonight.

After making sure that the front doors were locked and Peter rounded everyone up, I gathered my staff and we went out the back. The delivery truck was too big to even make it through the alley, but the trips through the back would be shorter and directly into the storage cold-room. That and my staff wouldn't knock stock over going through the front doors.

"Are you in charge?" I looked up at a tall, old, bearded man, waving a clipboard in the air. He jumped down the steps of the truck and lazily made his way towards me.

 _Deep breaths, Kelly, deep breaths_.

"Yes, I'm the owner. Is that my stock list?" I pointed towards the clipboard.

"Yes ma'am." He handed me the list and I scanned over it, ensuring it was in fact my store's delivery. It wouldn't be the first time we'd received somebody else's stock. I couldn't remember placing such a large order – we didn't have any upcoming weddings or events. But the order number was legit, so was all the details on the form.

"Okay, let's do this. Peter, Kyle, Alex, you take the heavy stock. Let the girls handle the fragile stock."

I waited for the driver to open up the back doors of the cooling truck, and watched as he fastened the steps. My staff's safety was a big thing for me. I liked to see myself as a loved boss. Someone my staff looked up to. And even though floristry might not be their passion, I hoped that each student learned something while they worked for me. That was what I wanted Spencer to understand. But we never quite got to that point – mention florist, flower, or career and we'd already be screaming at each other.

I waited for all the kids to grab stock and went in last, checking for the most expensive flowers. It was best I handled those. I picked up a bundle of Lily of the Valley, frowning. I definitely didn't remember placing an order for these. Not only were they very poisonous, it also had a very short lifespan, so it could only be a special order, for a special event. But I placed orders myself at the branch – and Lily of the Valley was certainly not on any of my orders.

"Excuse me," I stepped towards the ledge, looking for the driver. Before we offloaded any more flowers, I first wanted to check the order again – against my own orders placed.

But the driver had disappeared, and all my staff were still inside.

"Hello?"

There was no sign of the driver.

I grabbed onto the side of the truck, ready to make my descent on the flimsy steps, when a peculiar feeling went through my body. At first I thought it was the flowers, but I haven't touched it with my bare hands, and I haven't touched my forehead either.

I was facing the alley, there was no-one there. No-one to witness me crumbling down the steps onto the cold, dirty tar.

I wanted to cry for help but it seemed so impossible all of the sudden. My jaw froze up as an indescribable pain shot through my head. I felt the warm liquid trickling down my temple, the smell of blood overpowering the scent of all the flowers around me.

I wasn't sure what was going on, but I had this inexplicable desire to close my eyes. Just for a couple of minutes. I knew Spencer would come and find me. And she would rub my temples and soothe the headache away. And then she would pull me into her arms and kiss me shyly, like she always did.

Yes, that's what I was going to do. Spencer would find me, and in a couple of hours I was going to propose to her.

Spencer would find me.

I was aware as the light faded away behind my eyelids. I wasn't aware that it would never come back.

* * *

 **The ghost of you – My Chemical Romance**


	26. No one knows who we are

**A/N: It warms my heart to read all the awesome reviews! Thank you all so much, and thanks to all the readers out there even if you're not reviewing!**

* * *

 **Trmack9 – CH25 : Haha it wasn't exactly Christmas, I should have planned the posting of Spencer's appearance better – and made it an April fool's joke! But oh well, too late now lol. Yip, with Spencer now kindof in the story, and the assassination of her girlfriend… lots of drama to follow, enjoy! Thank you so much for reading and reviewing!**

 **daniellelambert76 – CH25 : Hope you're enjoying the progress! Thank you so much for reading and reviewing!**

 **lbea04 – CH25 : Thank you so much! It is quite a long story so I hope you're prepared to be patient! Thank you so much for reading and reviewing!**

 **Mellyb14 – CH25 : Haha I'm glad it was worth the wait! But don't jump to any conclusions too soon – still a looooooot of story here! Thank you so much for reading and reviewing!**

 **esty32 – CH24 : Right now I can't say anything about Spencer, you'll just have to read and find out! If chapter 25 was any indication… lots of drama and twists to follow! Thank you so much for reading and reviewing!**

 **Anjela78 – CH25 : I'm sorry, I didn't mean to confuse everyone, though it was my intention to be a little vague until I posted Kelly's chapter. I was just really curious to see everybody's thoughts about Spencer's first appearance. But I will elaborate in the next couple of chapters so most of your questions/thoughts will be answered. Kelly** ** _was_** **shot by Ashley – this next chapter will reveal how she fit into the whole story. But everything Spencer/Ashley… I can't say anything! Spencer is kindof in the story now though, as the story progresses you'll learn more about her ;)**

 **Hope this chapter is enlightening, things are about to get very interesting! Don't forget about your four-legged love – next time walk first, I promise the update will still be there when you get back ;)  
The webpage you mentioned got removed because of the .net – can you perhaps just give me the name again then I will look for that story? I tried to Google just the name but couldn't find anything. Have a wonderful evening and week, hope this chapter is enjoyable! ****Thank you so much for reading and reviewing!**

 **Son-lyn – CH25 : I'm starting from the bottom up, because this whole age thing has** ** _aged_** **me overnight… Let's just say I'm a mid-eighties baby, gosh I feel really old and weird now. Is it weird that I** ** _still_** **enjoy SON? I only watched this show like years after it came out since it never aired in my country. Plus I was already out. Still really enjoyed the show and characters though. Anyway, now that** ** _that_** **has been cleared… I'm guessing you're a 90's baby then? ;)**

 **Back to the story: Thank you, progress is what I'm aiming for now – which means there will be a lot happening, and a lot of emotions coming to surface. There is a specific couple of chapters where it will be hectic, especially for Ashley – but of course I can't say more until we get there. Thanks for all the pointers and making me more aware of a natural progression – I really could not have gotten into the right mindset without your input!**

 **All your questions about Spencer and Ashley's first meeting; I loved all of it, once again you're making me aware of points that I need to keep in consideration with the story going forward. What I can tell you is that the girl on the beach** ** _was_** **Spencer. The next couple of chapters will answer a lot the other questions, the tattoo has a small significant role which unfortunately I'm leaving up to imaginations until it gets revealed ;) I really laughed about your Kelly-questions. This very next chapter will elaborate a bit about her, the same way all Ashley's other ghosts/hits were introduced. I have worked really hard on the overall plot so there is definitely reason for all these (random, less written-about) people to be in the story, by the time we reach the end everybody's roles would have been self-explanatory as the story goes on. Hopefully!**

 **I agree about the filler chapters, but I still don't like them that much. But like I also said it was kindof necessary. But I'm trying to rather get the story to move forward naturally, but who knows, there might be one or two more of those. And don't worry about the accident/drugs/medical condition – I** ** _really_** **appreciate that you ask all these questions! Because it reminds me to keep the story as real and believable as possible! (even though half the cast are ghosts and the other half are snipers and then we also have drunken girls who hang around in bars to only have sex with Ashley Davies)**

 **Ashley/Aiden… oh, it's coming! The little rants so far have just been a buildup but it's coming! Coffee across continents – it's easy. I have days where I'm up 24hrs. And I happen to drink a lot of coffee. We could just try and do it the same time and chat how I am just as gay but even in a straight world Matt Cohen would not be a suitable guy… because he will always be Aiden! :P I actually don't even know which male actors I like. I used to like James van der Beek when Dawson's Creek started airing. But now I feel old again because that was like a million years ago.**

 **And… full circle! Let me get to writing! Seems like there's plenty of questions I need to answer!**

 **Oh, PS, did you see** ** _vaginawig_** **updated Still Into You Too? I was half asleep (it was morning hours when I got the notification) and I could hardly see but I didn't put my phone down until I finished reading the update! Such a brilliant writer! Thank you so much for reading and reviewing!**

 **TheDWall – CH25 : Thank you for the awesome review! Kelly's role will be revealed in this chapter – it follows the same style as all the other ghost introductions, hope you enjoy all the little twists - there will be plenty more! The thing between Ashley and Spencer – I cannot reveal anything on that, you were right the answers will come ;) Thank you so much for reading and reviewing!**

 **GirlsOnly – CH25 : Wow! Thank you so much for your support, that really means a lot! I can't say much about the Ashley/Spencer thing, it's the moment everyone was waiting for – for Spencer to finally make her appearance, and obviously from here on her character will develop and we'll find out how she fits in. Do expect some intense chapters though! I really appreciate the review and words of encouragement! Thank you for reading and reviewing!**

 **SoNFan – CH25 : I'm glad you liked the introduction of Spencer – there's a lot of mystery around this girl but fear not, she's about to become part of the story! Thank you for reading and reviewing!**

* * *

 **Ashley**

 **No one knows who we are**

Had I known the nightmares would forever haunt me, and the ghosts of those nightmares would become real, I would never, ever, have gone to sleep. In fact, I'd just never go to sleep again in my entire life. Even if it ended up killing me. The worst part was yet to come. I didn't know why it had to be so dramatic and painful on my body. If it was some kind of payback they really did succeed in kicking me down.

I barely had time to sit up and try to catch my breath when nausea took over. I colored my brand new bedspreads in shades and smells that just triggered more vomiting. In between that, breathing didn't come easy. It literally felt like all the air had been squeezed out of my lungs.

As if _that_ wasn't enough, my jaw felt like it was locked, the stiffness just adding to the pounding of my head. More precisely, a sharp pain clinging to my forehead, incessant, like a woodpecker racing to chisel a hole into a tree. It was unbearable. Painfully unbearable. Had it not been for throwing up, and barely being able to take deep breaths, I was sure the pain could have knocked me out.

The realization of what all of this meant didn't hit me until after I managed to clean myself up and dragged the ungodly stench of bedspreads to the little laundry area adjacent to my kitchen.

It was then when I finally noticed her, propped up on a stool by the island counter, rearranging the only vase of flowers there was in my condo. I wasn't sure what she was trying to do, there were only _so_ many ways you could drop the flowers back in the vase.

I reached up to my forehead, where the imaginary woodpecker was still chiseling away, only to find out that I did not have a giant star-shaped hole in my forehead. Instead, the scar of that hole was on hers.

It took her a moment to look up at me. Right after she finished with her composition. "Ashley. I'm glad to see you're healing quite well after your accident. I'm sorry to hear about what happened."

I shrugged, used to their opening lines by now. I still didn't understand why they were all so concerned about me – they were supposed to hate me. Plan revenge. At least feel resentful. But that was the thing with these ghosts, they were always just so damn fucking nice. With the exception of Aiden – who I just wanted to kill all over again.

"You must be Kelly," I mumbled, my voice hoarse after trying to squeeze my organs through my throat.

She offered a stiff smile, and for first time I wondered how much of their personalities came with them in the afterlife. But thinking about Aiden, I immediately had my answer. They were the exact same dead as they were alive.

I was already not very comfortable with this ghost. There was something about her, the way she stared at me with those piercing green eyes, matching her green halter top, as if she was challenging me. I wanted to be cocky and tell her she could stare all she want because let's face it, she already lost – _I_ was the one who was still alive, but I choked back my words. Instead, I returned the stare, taking in her posture, her clothes, her fair skin, her perfectly tied jet black hair… she was basically perfect, like Aiden, Sean, Sasha, and Boz. Molded, like a Barbie-doll collection. The only thing missing were the accessories, the Barbie house, and the pink car. And of course, Barbie herself.

"I don't care how you do it, but I need you to undo what you did to me. After explaining why, of course. Do you know that I was about to get engaged?" Her tone was condescending, only drawing a raised brow from me. Who did she think she was?

I allowed myself to revisit the dream anyway, with undesired side-effects. The water I sipped after cleaning up earlier came rushing back up my throat as I recalled Kelly's last hours alive. She'd been fighting with her girlfriend. About work, which seemed to be a problem in their relationship. From what I could make out, the girlfriend seemed sweet, but stubborn in her own ways. I wished I could've seen what she looked like. Just to spite Kelly. But my mean thoughts were pushed to the back of my head as things got serious. Kelly really loved that woman. She had decided to close shop for that staged delivery to ensure she'd make it to the engagement dinner. I wondered how the Agency had managed that. All I could remember was instructions to take her out in the alley, they would make sure she was there at the allocated time. It didn't make sense to me why someone would want to get rid of a florist. Sure, she was successful, her black hair and green eyes were striking which made her somewhat pretty, her girlfriend sounded nice… but why kill a florist?

I allowed myself to take a few deep breaths between heaving before delving even deeper into that day. It was a job in San Francisco, just over a year ago. It was the same week I killed Sean. I remembered it being a draining week. It scared me now, because I had no idea how many people I killed when I was here for that week. I didn't even know how many people I've killed since I became a sniper. Were _all_ of them going to come back and haunt me?

There was nothing left in my stomach to throw up anymore, but my stomach kept clenching and unclenching as I tried to remember these horrible things I did. Remember what it was like for these ghosts – _people_ – in their unknowing last hours of life. The more painful memories were where loved ones were involved, like with Boz. I saw his family with my own eyes. Of all the ghosts, I regretted his assassination the most. Alongside Sasha's, who was still so young and didn't deserve dying for her father's wrongdoings. And of course, Sean, who was also a hero. I wasn't sure what I wanted to classify Aiden as, and neither Kelly. She seemed like a bitch.

Which made it all the more confusing why I took away the life of a florist, of all people. Perhaps she pulled her bitchy attitude on the wrong person on the wrong day and time – a person with contacts – a person who just had enough.

"Can you be any more disgusting?"

Fuck that. I would want to kill her too.

I wiped the grossness from my mouth with the back of my hand and straightened up, marching back to the laundry area to grab a mop to clean up the floor.

" _Kelly_?"

My anger at the raven-head disappeared, replaced by instant curiosity as Sean stood a few feet away from her, his gaze shifting between the two of us. While frowning in amazement at me, he threw daggers at the bitch with his eyes.

How bittersweet would this be if Sean ordered the hit on Kelly. But he wasn't that kind of person.

"Sean Miller. Why am I not fucking surprised?"

Sean sneered. "I could say the same, Kelly. Spencer warned you time and time again."

The bitch snapped. "Spencer did no such thing! She had a problem with my job and the fact that I was receiving grants and making more money than her. What does being a florist have anything to do with –"

Sean rolled his eyes and interrupted her. "Spencer is not that shallow. It was never about money for her. It was about integrity and loyalty to your state and country! And your safety… God, Kelly what the fuck is wrong with you?"

Their little fight was interesting and I was definitely intrigued about this Spencer-woman now. It was clear Sean also knew the girl. I wondered where she was now, and what she did for a living that had Kelly so riled up against her. I thought she had planned to be the better person in order to ask the woman to marry her.

But while they were bickering back and forth, my attention was diverted to the bedroom where my alarm clock was blaring, announcing the start of another long day. I wished this week would just end already – now I knew how Monica felt doing all those shifts for me on top of hers.

I slipped out of the kitchen while the screaming match continued, wondering how I would get through this day when all I wanted to do was stay at home and figure out how I was going to get rid of this Kelly-ghost. She was annoying, and a bitch.

And now I had _two_ unwanted ghosts in my hair, while the better three were quiet and not as dominating as Aiden and Kelly.

Things at the Davies-condo just got very interesting!

* * *

I was grateful that it was a warm day outside since I forgot to take a jacket, and the one I usually left at the coffee shop now belonged to a girl I wasn't sure was even real.

My heart started fluttering every time a blonde-headed girl entered the coffee shop with the hope it was the blue-eyed girl from the night before. Though I wouldn't mind my hoodie back, I just really wanted to see her again. Make sure she was okay. She had disappeared so quickly when the cops arrived that I had come to the conclusion she was maybe an escaped convict. Or maybe just a local thief on the beach and surrounding area. Or for all I knew, she could have been a killer – the same way I was. And people would never even guess. We both looked too innocent, too normal. Except in my life, normal was something I was still trying to find the definition of.

I was so engrossed in my own thoughts behind the counter that I missed the familiar sound of the door chime, failing to look up as a shy blonde stood on the other side, waiting to place an order.

Had it not been for Dylan cussing loud from the storeroom, I'd still wonder about the blonde's whereabouts instead of noticing her right in front of me.

Her cheeks were slightly flushed, her eyes looking expectantly at me while she waited for me to react.

React.

Oh!

"Uh…hi!" I felt my own cheeks tinting as I wiped subconsciously at my apron. My hands were squeaky clean already, so I wasn't sure where this was coming from.

"I'm sorry I ran away like that," she apologized, her voice pulling strings inside my heart. She sounded like heaven. She _looked_ like heaven.

I chuckled, speaking before I even thought it through. "Scared of the cops?"

 _Smooth_.

She blushed but laughed, making me swoon a little. I didn't know what it was about this girl. She was undeniably beautiful.

"No, not at all. I uhm, I'm terrified of dogs."

 _Oh!_ I felt like an idiot.

She held out her left hand, her palm up, the countless deep scars on it failing to taint her beauty. "Had an incident when I was younger."

It all made so much sense now. And I felt like an even bigger idiot. "I'm sorry, that was – "

She smirked, a teasing smile on her face as she interrupted me. "You thought I was running from the cops?" A perfect brow raised into her forehead.

"Kindof."

She shrugged it off with another smile. "I brought your hoodie, had it washed. Thank you, for lending it to me."

And suddenly I didn't want it back anymore. I liked the way it looked on her. But I reached out and took it, deciding to keep it at the shop, in case she might need it again sometime.

"So uhm, can I order something?"

I smiled softly. "Anything – it's on me."

Her brow raised again, but she nodded in acceptance and gazed up at the overhead menu behind me. I took the time to shamelessly stare at her, trying to record into memory every curve, every feature of her face, her neck, all the way down to her naked, tanned shoulders. She wore a tank top again, at least this time she was dry and not aimlessly wandering around in the ocean.

She was exquisite.

And she was making me feel strange things.

Normally I'd ogle and flirt and by the end of the day I'd have the girl in a hotel bed for the night.

But gorgeous as she was, my hormones took the backseat today. I was thinking with my heart.

That thought alone petrified me.

"… Americano, to go?"

I was interrupted from my ranting and staring as she smiled, waiting patiently for me to react. Again.

"Sure, coming right up."

I wanted to take my time and keep her here for as long as possible, but the longer I took to make her coffee, the less time I had to stare at her while she was still in the shop. So I hastily got it done in a paper cup, sneaking in my name and cell number with a sharpie, then neatly adding the wrapper with our logo and contact details before handing it over.

I smiled as she saw what I'd done, and her face lit up. "I'll give you a call, Ashley. Thanks for the coffee."

I was so whipped that she was already at the door, standing aside as group of college students piled in, when I realized something.

"Wait! I don't know your name!"

But she was gone.

To my great embarrassment, the students found it funny and offered me their names instead.

* * *

It was difficult for me to concentrate on anything in my office while Aiden and Boz kept talking about the plans going forward, and while Sean and Kelly kept bickering about something else. Sasha was stuck in the lounge in front of the TV, watching reality shows, uninterested in any of us.

And me… I was on another planet. All I could see in front of me was the shy smile, the arched eyebrow, and echoes of her voice replaying the words "I'll give you a call, Ashley." I loved the way my name rolled off her lips. I loved the way it sounded in her voice tone.

After she left, I happened to hug my hoodie and all I could smell was her. And soap detergent. And while I appreciated that she washed it, I almost wished she hadn't. I was never going to wear it again, scared that the scent of her would disappear.

I really wished I'd gotten her name. And number. All I could do now was wait until she phoned or texted me. Or came to the shop for more coffee. Was it selfish of me to wish for _all_ of those?

"… ridiculous. I don't have time for this shit – who's your superior, Ashley?"

I heard my name slipping from Kelly's tongue, immediately making me want to ignore her, but suddenly everyone was staring at me.

I regained focus and stared at Kelly with a blank face. "Sorry, what?"

She sighed impatiently. "Who's in charge of all of this? Of you, of us?"

I wanted to say _The Marshmallow Man_ but bit my tongue. I didn't want to piss them off while there were tension between the ghosts. It made me feel edgy.

" _I_ was Ashley's superior. And we don't have contact outside this world until Ashley sends you back," Aiden spoke up.

I felt some sense of power rise in me at the last part, getting a kick out of the fact that Kelly was dependent on me. But the first part threw me off. Aiden was nothing to me now – he was dead. So how dared he even say that?

Kelly scoffed. "Right. Okay, then make her send me back first. Do you know anything about the law, meathead? Last in first out? Make her send me back," she demanded.

While Sean gave a hearty dry laugh, I could only stare with an open mouth at this ridiculous woman. Who the hell did she think she was?

"You can't go back, Kelly. After this it's all over. And Ashley decides who goes first, we're not some company retrenching ghosts." Sean said spitefully.

"Well, Ashley, close your fucking mouth and do me a favor, let me go."

I was tempted to grab my rifle from its hiding place and put another hole in her forehead.

Boz finally spoke up, sadness evident in his voice. "Ashley, I'm sorry, I know this is up to you, but if you don't mind… please can you still continue with my case first?"

Of course I was going to continue with Boz first. No freaken way Kelly was going to tell me what to do!

She stomped her foot and jumped up from her chair. "And what am I supposed to do in the meantime, huh?"

"Go sit and rearrange that vase of flowers. I'll even buy you more, Miss Florist." I didn't mean for it to come out so insensitive, but once the words left my mouth, there was nothing I could do.

Kelly never missed a beat. "At least I excelled in something. What are _you_ good at, Ashley, besides killing people and tearing apart families?"

That stung incredibly. The way she said it was almost as if she knew I've been struggling to find myself.

Once again my mouth hung open and I couldn't find words, not a single word, to throw back at her.

There was an awkward silence that seemed to last forever, but finally, one by one, the ghosts all got up and silently left the room, as if they knew I needed space to recover from Kelly's harsh words.

Everybody except Aiden.

For once I was glad that he stayed. "Can you remember anything from your life? Anything at all? Before you became a sniper?"

Aiden shook his head in regret. "I thought that after turning into a ghost, some of it would come back to me, but all I remember is my life at the Agency."

I felt despair rise up in my throat, clutching at my organs, tingling my limbs at his words. "So when I let you go… there's no one who'll be looking up for you?"

Aiden understood me better than I felt comfortable with. While Boz could go to heaven or wherever and look down at his family, keeping an eye on them, Sean could do the same, and so could Sasha. Of course, Kelly had that privilege too. She had her girlfriend to look out for. It was only myself and Aiden who had absolutely no-one. We didn't know anybody else except each other, and nobody knew us, except the Agency, who was probably still after me. We didn't even know ourselves.

I didn't share any sentiment with Aiden, but right at this moment, feeling so lost and alone, he was the only other person who knew what that felt like.

His voice broke as he looked up at me, and suddenly I felt terrible for hating him so much all the time. "No one knows who we are."

* * *

 **No one knows who we are - Kaskade**


	27. Not ready to make nice

**A/N: Though I've done extensive research on this subject, Arthur's treatment plan regarding Ashley's hallucinations have been completely made up. This story does by no means offer any medical advice and should be treated as entirely fictional.**

* * *

 **GirlsOnly** **–** **CH26 : You have guessed correctly, yes this is a slow buildup to a** ** _lot_** **of things… I'm hoping that you as readers can see/feel the progression, sometimes I'm just too close to the story to tell. Kelly… I know she wasn't big in SoN – but this is AU so unfortunately the annoying girl is here to stay for a while. Thank you, I also like the song, it's one of my favorites. And thanks for the compliment! Thank you so much for reading and reviewing!**

 **Anjela78 – CH26 : Good…morning! (It's 2:30AM here so I guess you're an hour or so ahead of me)**

 **I have to say, I know the memory erasing thing with the Agency sounds a little far-fetched, but this is a ghost story after all… can't get more weird than that! But there will be some explanation about the memory thing later on, it really is like that for a reason ;) Yes Ashley should have paid more attention to Sean and Kelly's conversation, but she's got so much on her mind right now, and Kelly really is annoying so it's kind of hard to listen to anything she says. Kelly is definitely an antagonist, she really makes Spencer sound like an angel if you compare the two in a relationship. But don't trust that too much, the blonde may be hiding some secrets in her own closet, nobody's perfect after all. Yes, just a tiny spoiler alert, which you should be able to pick up in this very chapter ;) I'll respond to your PM regarding the story and site ;)**

 **I think I might know your age, so yes, a couple of years difference but we are in our thirties and that feels old. We had the same problem, especially a couple of years ago before the big streaming boom and of course easy access to movies and series online; mostly the content we had on TV was way behind and there are really a lot of good shows that we just never got to see. But thanks to technology nowadays, we're in sync with a lot of the major channels in the US, so I don't feel so left out anymore! And it's true what you say… life really is short so there's nothing wrong with enjoying the good things in life! Hope you have a great day, and enjoy the chapter! I might update (that is not a promise but a hopeful wish) two more chapters before next week. Thank you so much for reading and reviewing!**

 **K1989** **–** **CH26 : Whether you write an essay, short paragraph, or a one-liner review, it is ALWAYS appreciated! Thank you so much for reading and reviewing! Hope you enjoy this chapter!**

* * *

 **Ashley**

 **Not ready to make nice**

I was thankful for a lot of things.

I was thankful that I didn't have to get up at the crack of dawn, since I paid my dues to Monica and she was back on her shift. I was thankful that it was Friday. I was thankful that it was Friday, and I had another session with Doctor Carlin. I was thankful that I had some time to think, plan and plot.

What I _wasn't_ thankful for, was a death glare from Kelly, who stood in my door, probably wondering how she could kill me in my sleep.

When I first realized she was standing there it was just after 3AM. It was now 6AM, and she was still there, in the same spot, leaning against the doorframe. Just… staring. It gave me chills and frankly, I was actually terrified to go back to sleep. What if ghosts had the ability to really scare you to death?

"I know you're awake, you can stop pretending." Her voice was as icy as her stare.

I couldn't help but feel as conflicted about Kelly as I did about Aiden. At least Aiden and I had something in common. But Kelly… she made me want to kill her over and over again. And then I thought about her girlfriend with the boyish name I'd already forgotten, who would've become a fiancé the night I killed Kelly, and I felt sad and remorseful for taking another loved one away from someone. And the girlfriend was the only person I was aware of – what about her parents, or siblings, or close friends? And then I just hated her all over again for having all these people and dreams and good things in her life to start with. "What do you want, Kelly?"

"I want to go."

This was frustrating. I sighed and sat up, my hands rubbing at my tired eyes. "Look, I'm already busy with Boz's case, there's really only a couple of things I have to sort out then I can let him go. Can't you just wait until I'm done with him? The research and planning isn't an overnight thing, you know."

Kelly huffed and straightened up against the door. "Fine, whatever. I'm not going to go easy on you, Davies. I'm _not_ happy to be here. You ruined my life."

She really didn't have to remind me of that. Not only did I ruin _her_ life, I ruined everybody's lives who were ever close to her. Her own life was hardly ruined – it was _taken away_ – without any warning, without her probably even knowing why. But she was talking as if seeking justice on her behalf was going to send her back into the real world, which I highly doubted was possible. I was just releasing her as a ghost into eternal nothingness. Or something like that.

Against my will, I forced myself to be a little more understanding about Kelly's attitude towards me. "I'm going to need your help, though. I need to find out who ordered the hit on you – you will only be free once I killed that person."

Her incredulous stare did nothing to soothe my guilty conscience. "So you're going to take someone else's life? What are you, some kind of serial killer?"

That sounded terrible. "No, I – "

"Are you sick? I'm going to turn you in, Ashley. This is not on! Just how many people have you killed?" She was freaking out, and in turn freaking me out.

I've never thought of myself as a serial killer, but I might as well have been one. Still was one. I was planning to kill more people. The thought made me nauseous. "I don't know, okay? I was a paid assassin!"

That shut her up. I thought she knew this. "So someone really asked you to kill me, you didn't just randomly pull a trigger?"

Who would ever have any murderous thoughts when meeting Kelly for the first time?

"Yeah. You had some enemies out there, Kelly. You were successful, received grants, had political backing – all of these things can so easily turn against you."

Her defensive attitude about her job was grating. "I worked really hard to get where I was before you took it all away from me. I studied for seven years – _seven_ years! And in between I started up my first shop, running it by myself!" Kelly paused to take a deep breath, and I was momentarily grateful, because she looked about ready to explode.

"I own ninety-eight shops across the states, and it took a lot of work. And don't be jealous of the grants – any small business could receive grants if they have the motivation I have. And as for the political backing – do you know how many events I had to cater for, how many hours I put in to get big contracts? Their backing was purely to have unity across all the states, and for some investment opportunities. Politicians have lots of money, and you know how the media gets when they discover these people are rich. Not even to talk about backstabbing and everybody trying to take them down. Did you know that there was a huge lawsuit against one of their companies, containing claims of environmental destruction? While all the while supporting the biggest floral empire in the states?"

This was all news to me. No _wonder_ she didn't get along with Sean – he owned the law firm trying to take those exact same politicians down. I wasn't going to get myself into the middle of this, so I had to choose my words very carefully. "There are a lot of jealous people out there, Kelly. I wasn't one of them, I was merely doing my job. So all these things that you just told me – you'll have to think carefully about all of that and try to remember if there was anyone who were against you at any given time while you rose to success."

Her dry, cynical laugh gave me goosebumps. "Are you _kidding_ me? Where do we start? My _girlfriend_ , for one! She was the one person who was opposed to everything I ever did!"

Her words made the blood in my veins freeze. Though hard to believe that the girl Kelly and Sean had constantly been fighting about could ever do such a thing, she had a point. I should at least be looking into it, like all the other people I'd have to investigate to figure out who might have ordered the hit on Kelly.

"Okay, so that's a place to start. We'll have to scrutinize everyone, Kelly. Talk to Boz and the others, they will help you." I pulled off my duvet cover, the heaviness of this conversation pushing down on me. I needed to get fresh air and go for a run.

I was wide awake now anyway.

So much for sleeping in on my day off.

* * *

Kelly's appearance had me worried about so many things. Being back in Doctor Carlin's suite, I was reminded that there was one person I feared most could show up as a ghost too. Clay Carlin.

Kelly was the second person from the San Francisco killings. I knew for a fact that there were more – I just didn't know exactly _how many_ more, for what reasons, and if one of them was my favorite doctor's son.

I would have liked to have some time to stare at that family portrait again, to maybe see if his face could trigger anything in my non-existent memory, but the moment I stepped inside the suite, Doctor Carlin came in from the little side door.

"It feels like it's been ages. How are you, Ashley?"

He sounded cheerful as he gestured for me to take a seat on that familiar, comfortable couch. It felt soft, warm, as if it could swallow me and all my problems into a world of innocent fluffiness.

I thought about his question for a moment. Mentally I was a mess, and I knew if I could just talk to someone, majority of the other problems, such as the headaches, would start to get better. I made a point to exercise every morning so the rest of my body was starting to get back into shape. "I still get headaches, they're not as frequent anymore but some are unrelenting. The hallucinations haven't stopped at all, there's an extra person now. And God, she's annoying."

I smiled when Arthur chuckled despite the seriousness of the situation. "I've been thinking about your case a lot, Ashley. Though we have made some great progress with your overall recovery, I'm a bit worried that you're still getting the hallucinations. Especially since I took you off the strong pain medication, which would have been the biggest contributor if the cause was drug-related."

My smile disappeared in an instant. Even though I've made peace with myself and accepted that they were ghosts and very much _real_ , deep down I always hoped that we could come up with a medical explanation – and solution – before I had to do the inevitable. And today's session was the visit I'd hoped would have saved me from taking more lives.

Doctor Carlin looked at me sympathetically, as if he somehow understood what a disappointment this news was. "So I'm going to change the course of your treatment. I'm going to send you for blood tests again to establish the levels of medication in your body. We might need to change your prescription, but if needed, only in about two weeks. I'm also giving you a headache scale, and I want you to diarize your headaches for the next two months. For now we're just going to start with an investigation about the type of hallucinations it is that you get. I want to separate your headaches and perhaps the injury completely from the hallucinations and rather try a psychological angle on that."

I was both excited and petrified of this. There were so many ways this could go wrong – what if I slipped up about what I did for a living? What if I unknowingly confessed? But what if we managed to get some of my memory back in the process? What if I started remembering my old life and could somehow go back to it without having to kill any more people?

"It's going to be a lengthy process, perhaps a couple of months, Ashley, so you'll need to be able to commit. We can keep the sessions on Fridays if you prefer. I want you to go and think about this, I'll explain the entire procedure to you and what we will be doing and discussing. I know you've got a job now, so the two can't affect each other."

It sounded serious and heavy, and like too long a process for me to rely on my problem being solved scientifically. It looked like I would be killing more people after all.

"Fridays are good for me." It was the only thing I could confirm with certainty. Monica preferred Friday shifts as she had no classes and could work a full day.

"Good." Doctor Carlin seemed pleased, and I could see the genuine desire he had to help me get better. Only I didn't think that it would ever be possible. Not while I still had to remove people forcefully and unknowingly from society. If only he knew…

"Are you still staying active? Exercising? Eating right?"

"All of the above."

"That's good, Ashley. It's very important that you continue looking after yourself."

Of course. But while Arthur Carlin was under the impression I kept fit only for health reasons, I was doing boot camp exercises and jogging further and harder every day in order to be able to escape from law enforcement and make seamless exits from crime scenes…

* * *

I found myself back on the beach, under the pier where I'd met the pretty blue-eyed blonde the other night. I wasn't sure if she'd show up again, and I hoped she didn't go to the coffee shop since I wasn't on shift today. I haven't heard anything from her – no phone calls, not even a text message. I really wished that I had taken her number and at least gotten her name, it would have been nice to have someone to talk to – she seemed like the kind of person that could do that with you, from sunset to sunrise. The thought was appealing.

I leaned back into the sand and closed my eyes, trying to focus on the calmness the ocean had been able to offer me the past two months. But while there were serenity around me, the raging storm inside me wouldn't calm down.

The visit to the hospital was exhausting; Doctor Carlin had thrown around so many confusing terms and scared me with tests I had to go for, starting the very next week. EEG's, another MRI, blood tests, but to name a few. If I still had physical impairments I would have felt more at ease. But aside from the headaches, I had healed quite well; there were no bumps on my head, the bruises on my ribs had turned green and was quickly fading to a pale yellow. I had full function of my wrist – the fracture long forgotten. So all these tests were more to determine a mental impairment, which had me breathing into a paper bag a couple of times.

It was all so confusing, and terrifying. I didn't want to be sick, I didn't want to have something wrong with me. For the first time, I cursed that driver who had lost control of his car and knocked me down. Then I cursed myself, for leaving the hotel that night. I would never have been in this situation had things been different that night.

And how I wished it was. A suffocating heaviness settled over me as I tried to think what would happen to me in the long run. I wasn't stupid – I knew these tests and diagnosis of whatever was wrong wasn't going to happen overnight. It could take weeks, _months_. I didn't have that much time. If I had to put up with Kelly for another month I'd gladly surrender myself into the confinement of a mental institute.

It left me with a arduous decision to make. With the help of Sean and Boz, we were left with only a handful of details and facts to consider before pinning his hit order on Logan Jones, Boz's immediate supervisor. I would always carry the fear with me that we could be after the wrong guy, and I didn't even want to know how to get rid of the ghost of a person I wrongfully killed. The only way we would ever know for sure was if Boz disappeared, for good.

The planning and research was tedious but it was achievable. The problem was with execution. I had so many doubts about being able to go through with this. I wanted to wait and see if Doctor Carlin could fix me, but I couldn't wait that long. I wanted to start my life, and I wanted to start it ghost-free.

But could I really kill again?

Could I, Ashley Davies, who had grown a conscience and made friends with ghosts and had a small crush on a stranger, really switch to a cold-blooded murderer again?

I really didn't want to. I thought of Tracy and Tucker, of Sean's family who I thankfully haven't met, of the corrupt Mayor Miller and his loving wife who was probably torn about Sasha's death, of Kelly's girlfriend who sounded like a good person but may have influenced the hit on Kelly, and Aiden… who, like myself, had no idea where our families were. With the exception of memories here and there, confirming my father was dead and my mother heartless, there was no one.

I didn't know how many more families were affected by my ruthless behavior. I still prayed that the Carlins and Chelsea Lewis was not suffering the loss of a child because of me.

My thoughts drifted back to my ghosts and it pulled my heart in another direction. Boz was extremely despondent, he kept staring at the whiskey glass I'd placed on the kitchen counter for him, since I didn't have a bar. It was obvious that during the last months of his life, when things were so oppressive, he'd made friends with Mr. JD, a fine blend of Tennessee whiskey. He really wanted to get out of the limbo they were stuck in. We still had no idea what would happen to them once they disappeared, but it sounded like they were promised a nice spot up in heaven to look down on their loved ones.

Sasha was as miserable – she never talked, she never participated in any strategies or plans to get them back. It was so different from the person she was when she was alive. She'd gone from the most popular student to, well… _dead_. Her soul was dead.

My ghosts were becoming depressed. And it was weighing down hard on me, forcing me to make a decision soon. I was responsible for taking their lives, I owed it to them to set them free.

And that meant I had to kill again.

Frustrated by my own consuming thoughts, I finally sat up, surprised that the sun was already setting. I hadn't realized that I'd been on the beach for so long.

I checked my phone one last time, my heart racing at the hope to hear from a certain someone, but there was nothing.

I didn't want to go back to my condo, not without knowing what I was going to do. And I definitely didn't have the energy to face Kelly.

So I decided to try and get rid of my frustrations the Ashley Davies way…

* * *

Sex was an interesting thing.

It could be exhilarating, it could be hot, it could be sensual, some people were lucky and for them it could mean something.

To me, once again, it merely helped to get the overbearing thoughts of mental illness, ghosts, and murder out of my head. It was good exercise, helping to exhaust my body and mind so I wouldn't have to think anymore. But something, some _one_ , snuck inside my head while I pleasured a perfect stranger, picked up from the bar right across the street from the hotel. They made it so easy nowadays.

I glanced over at the blonde passed out next to me, wondering if I should kick her out, or just leave the hotel room and let her sleep in peace. Because that is exactly what I needed – peace. And I couldn't get myself to switch off with a naked woman lying right next to me, her delicious curves awakening my active libido. It shouldn't have been a problem – normally they liked being waken up with me worshiping their bodies.

But I couldn't get myself to do it. Not while constantly thinking about the blue-eyed blonde who I so desperately wanted to call me, or at least send a text. I wasn't sure why I was so obsessed with her. We barely knew each other.

She just made me feel things. She made me feel. Period.

I let out a heavy sigh, realizing I was starting to get as depressed as my ghosts.

Something had to change, and very soon.

* * *

"Do you know how rude it is to stay out all night while you have guests in your house?"

I should have stuck it out with the blonde in the hotel room. I felt the life drain from my body as I looked up at Kelly, who was rearranging that vase of flowers, _again_. I really had to get her some more to work with, maybe that way she'd keep busy and leave me alone.

"Well then I apologize," I huffed, glancing at the clock in the kitchen. It was 3AM. My days were seriously messed up.

"Where were you?" Kelly pressed.

I stared at her, incredulous. " _Really_? Are you my mother now?"

Kelly dismissed my question and continued with the flower arrangement. "I'd appreciate if you can inform us in advance if you are going to gallivant like that. Were you seeing someone?"

The nerve of this woman! I couldn't help but feel sorry and partially relieved for her ex-girlfriend. Was Kelly like this when she was alive too? Not that it mattered. What I did was none of her business, but I knew how to shut her up. "As a matter of fact, yes I did. It was good, I'm still wet, do you want to feel?"

She scoffed, and if I wasn't imagining things, her perfectly pale face turned a bright red for a second. "You're so vulgar, do you know that?"

"And you're nosy and annoying. I'm off to bed, if you must know. And I won't be waking before noon. I'll let you in on my schedule for the rest of the day once I'm up."

I left the room before Kelly could respond, feeling hyped at finally having had the last word with her. Not that it hurt as much as her final words during the arguments we've had, but it was the last words none the less.

* * *

The flickering on my phone alerted me that I had received a text message. It was still dark out, so the bright blue occasional blink was annoyingly bright. I glanced at my alarm clock, realizing with a groan that I'd only slept for an hour.

Who would send a text message at this hour?

More importantly, who had my phone number?

I was careful who I gave it to – only Doctor Carlin, and my colleagues from the coffee shop had my number. And at 4AM in the morning, it either meant Monica was at some frat party and got drunk and perhaps needed me, or there was some kind of emergency.

I convinced myself that I would feel better if I read the message, instead of leaving it until I was more awake. Like in twelve hours.

I stretched out and held my phone close to my face, my tired eyes squinting to see.

 **03:32AM – Monica : I can't sleep because you're running through my mind. Is that weird?**

She was definitely drunk. As much as I thought Monica was cute and exceptionally talented in bed, there was nothing more to it than that. I didn't do crushes and relationships.

I let out the breath I'd been holding in, feeling annoyed that I woke up for that. I'd have to be completely awake to gently let her down. My hand had just released its grip on my phone when the annoying blue light flickered again.

Seriously?

 **04:06AM – Monica : I'm so sorry! Wrong number, please ignore that message!**

Despite feeling relieved because of the mistake, and frustrated because I was so exhausted, I couldn't help the pang in my chest at being rejected. Not that she was rejecting me, but obviously Monica had someone in her life who kept her up at night and she could fantasize about romantic outings and a happy life.

That message was just a painful reminder of how alone I was and that I _was_ in fact rejected, by the mysterious blue-eyed blonde. How nice would it have been to receive a text from her in the morning hours. Even if it was just to say _hello_.

I sighed and tossed my phone on the floor, too exhausted to respond or even think, but wound up enough to not get back to sleep.

So I ended up tossing and turning until the first rays of sun finally hit the gaps between my curtains, and decided I might as well get up. Who needed sleep anyway?

I craved coffee but was definitely not prepared to face Kelly so soon, so I decided to spend some time in my office doing research on my ghosts.

Boz soon joined me, and we ended up chatting and tying the loose ends to Logan Jones's file.

"Boz, I don't know if you realize this, but if this plan backfires, we're going to sit with an even bigger problem on our hands. What if Logan comes back as a ghost? How am I going to explain to him why I killed him? How are you going to face him?"

Boz offered a sympathetic smile, and my heart warmed, if only for a second. It was the first time in weeks I've seen him smile.

"It was Logan, Ashley. Trust me on this. We've got all the evidence, it's right here – you've done some great research. The photographs and information he had on me and my family on his cloud drive was a dead giveaway."

I was sure if he wasn't a ghost, he would've patted my back for reassurance. I just pinned him for that type of guy.

"Plus, he's the only one we could see so far with direct links to that Miller-guy, and oh, who's the other politician?" His brows furrowed for a second. "Harper. Myles Harper. I wouldn't be surprised if he was somehow involved with any of the other ghosts. I can guarantee you that all of us are linked somehow. With the exception of Aiden, of course."

Speak of the devil. I didn't know why but I could _feel_ his presence behind me.

"Hey Ash."

I inhaled sharply, trying to keep my bitchiness intact. I _hated_ when he called me that. It felt wrong and… _reserved_?

All these new, small emotional revelations gave me hope. Maybe I was going to regain my memory. Maybe someone _was_ trying to find me, someone who loved _me_. Maybe I'd left a girlfriend behind too, before I became a sniper.

It was all wishful thinking, but I had to try and psych myself up and stay positive for whatever the future had in store for me.

"Do you want to talk strategy? I've got some pointers for you for stakeout and obviously if you're going to go through with it, we'll need to discuss your action plan and escape routes, since I won't be your eyes and ears."

The thought hadn't occurred to me until now.

I was going to have to go in blind. I had to set up everything myself. I had to somehow get off work for two weeks if I was going to go through with this.

Panic set in, and I stared at Boz and Aiden with wide eyes, suddenly feeling helpless. "I can't do this."

Aiden was more understanding and nice than I wanted to admit. "Yes, you can. You can do this with your eyes closed, Ash…ley. We've done it a hundred times, you're going to be just fine."

I didn't quite believe him, but his words were comforting.

"All you need to do now is decide whether you're going to do it, and when," Boz pressed. He gave me a choice, it was still a decision I could make, but the hopeful look in his eyes told me he was excited to finally go home. Wherever that was.

I hated being put on the spot like this, but with the skills I've learned while being at the agency, my body remained calm. _I_ remained calm, despite the whirlwind of emotions rushing through me.

It was simple. Either I waited a couple of months to find out if I had some kind of psychological problem, and sit with a house full of ghosts, which could increase in numbers at any given time. Or I could take matters into my own hands, take down Logan Jones, and wait anxiously to see if Boz would disappear. And hate myself thereafter for taking another life.

 _"You are a hero too, Madison... Boz's death will mean something…"_

I had no idea how he did that, but I was convinced it was on purpose. I felt goosebumps raise on my arms as Tracy Anderson's voice echoed in my head. And not only because of the reference to Madison, but also because of what she said.

Logan Jones and the politicians were destroying people's lives, destroying wildlife, our country. They didn't deserve to die at the mercy of my hands – I was hardly saint – but they had taken lives just as I was going to take theirs.

 _All_ my ghosts' deaths would mean something to their loved ones if I could take these scumbags down.

I didn't know if I was going to survive another killing, my brain had turned too mushy since the accident. I'd grown a conscience. I had feelings now.

Against my better judgment, I finally caved in, nodding at Aiden as I spoke. "Tell me what I need to do."

* * *

 **Not ready to make nice – Dixie Chicks**


	28. What's wrong with me

**Ashley**

 **What's wrong with me**

I was a nervous wreck; a polymer ball of adrenaline waiting to be dropped, waiting to bounce off in any given direction – any direction as long as it was out of here. Out of the comfort of my hiding spot, out of the trendy, upmarket Manhattan suburb, out of New York.

My dark clothes felt itchy around my skin, I haven't had to wear all black and clingy for a while now. It gave me perfect cover, blending in with a pile of dumpsters several feet down the street. It felt like I belonged right here, with the trash.

I was very uncomfortable with the idea of killing Logan Jones right in front of his own house, but his busy lifestyle left me with very little options. He was always surrounded by a swarm of people, be it at work, or during business luncheons, even when he headed home there was always someone. I was grateful that his wife and kids had gone to visit her parents during the kids' short school break. The timing couldn't have been more perfect – I wouldn't have been able to do this with them around.

It was already difficult being here. I really just wanted to back out, jump on a plane, and disappear to a remote island where not even my ghosts could find me.

A quick glance down at my watch increased my heart rate by a couple of beats per minute. Time wasn't standing still, it would definitely not wait for me to get my head in the game. I had an hour to go through my ritual, an hour to try and talk myself out of it, an hour to convince myself that this was the right thing to do.

I scanned my surroundings like I had been doing for the past week, taking in the huge properties, historic architecture, wide streets lined with London Plane trees, the transition from winter to spring evident in the spouts of young leaves, still coated with minute, fine, stiff hairs. It was a beautiful suburb to raise a family. Wealth oozed off the neighborhood, not particularly my thing, but I'd want to give something like this to my family one day.

 _Pfft_. Family. I couldn't even make an impression on the blue-eyed blonde that had been plaguing my thoughts the past two weeks, let alone anyone else who weren't just in it for sex. I knew I was pretty closed off most of the time, but the person I was willing to find myself with wouldn't spare me a minute out of her day just to send a text message – even if it was just to tell me off.

A knot formed in my throat as self-pity numbed my body. I didn't know why it hurt so much that she never called me. We haven't spent enough time together to even call it a date. I wished I'd never met her in the first place.

It would've made this job a hell of a lot easier, I wouldn't keep worrying of what she would think of me if she ever had to find out what a monster I was. It was one thing to have killed people in my past, before the accident, but to continue doing so said a lot about my character. I was a cold-hearted killer. It was all I knew, it was all I probably would be for the rest of my life. For every person I killed while at the agency, I'd have to find whoever ordered the hit. It could take forever – I had no idea how many people's lives I've taken.

I was bound to run into problems at some stage. I wanted to get rid of Aiden, but it would mean letting go of intelligence. I'd soon have to find more ammunition for my rifle. Upgrade gear. Without Aiden, it felt like I was lost in the world of assassination.

But with him, it felt like I had to keep watching my back, lock my door when I went to sleep, keep a fair distance from him in case he got the wrong idea. I wasn't into him.

Which was another reason why I wished the blonde was there. She was the only person I'd be willing to take to my condo – after a whole couple of dates and interrogation first – and maybe _then_ Aiden would understand.

What was I even _thinking_? Ashley Davies didn't do dates and relationships.

Cars started pulling out of driveways, indicating the start of the day for many of the city's workforce. Because it was school holiday, there wasn't the usual rush, like I had witnessed the previous week, where entire families would pile out their front doors, mothers filling up minivans with their perfect 2.5 children, fathers kissing their kids goodbye and driving off in classy sedans. Some even owned sports cars. I decided I liked the Porsche Logan was driving. If I finally got around to smuggle the blood money out of my own bank account, I'd buy a Porsche.

I watched the automatic garage doors opening, displaying the object of my affection. Logan's car was always immaculate, and he made sure to always reverse in, so it was easier to just drive out in the mornings. The opening doors also meant that I had about fifteen minutes left to do my ritual, and wait until Logan was in his garage, where stacks of confidential documentation, _incriminating_ documentation, were pushed into archive boxes, marked with names of people I hoped I haven't killed, since Boz Anderson's name was on one of them as well. Logan would come through the door linking the garage directly into their kitchen. He'd have a travel mug filled with coffee in his one hand, his black blazer folded over the same arm, car keys in his free hand, ready to jump in.

I'd catch him right next to his wall mounted bookshelf, storing those archive boxes he really should have been more careful about hiding.

I swallowed hard, my palms feeling sweaty, my heart racing, my mind spinning, anticipating something to go wrong. But things would only go wrong if I allowed it – and being in a suburb where people were actively driving around, jogging just across the sidewalk, or standing out on their porches waiting for the paper boy, I couldn't allow any such distracting negative thoughts. It was crucial that I kept still, and stuck to the plan. It was my only way of survival. And without any help from the Agency or even Aiden, who'd know exactly where every person on the street was, or where somebody might just spot me between all the refuse bags and dumpster bins if they looked very carefully, I really only had myself to count on to get out of here alive.

Boz's death had to mean something. So did Sasha's, Sean's, even Kelly and Aiden's. I was doing this for them, and the countless other people who'd suffered the brutality of my job.

I took a deep breath and separated black sleeves from black gloves, tracing the scripted white _S_ on my right wrist. Whatever it meant, I needed to pull strength from it today more than ever. Looking up, I saw movement inside the house through the large porch windows, following Logan's movements toward the kitchen. Through the scope I could see family portraits all over their walls. The fridge door opened, allowing me a glimpse of a large, white paper stuck to it with a magnet. A family drawing by one of Logan's seven-year-olds. The door closed again, leaving me with a view of the back door leading to their backyard.

I focused the scope, concentrating on the Porsche in the garage. It was good enough of a focal point.

It took him five minutes to make it out of the kitchen, diligently locking the door behind him. I tapped my finger on the trigger three times, locking onto Logan through the scope as he turned around and moved to the driver side with a smile on his face. Finger on the remote, he pressed the button to unlock the beauty of a sports car. Travel mug placed carefully on the roof, he opened the door, reached for his ring finger, and tossed his wedding band into the centre console before ducking back out to grab his coffee. He straightened up, the smug smile still on his face, and for a very short-lived moment, I felt that he deserved everything coming his way.

This had to be justice, and not only a one-sided thing. He wasn't the perfect husband and father his family believed he was. He walked around without his wedding band, and had ordered for a work colleague, who had a small family of his own, to be assassinated. He was involved with the shady politicians, probably hiding millions of dollars in offshore accounts.

Logan Jones was a bad man.

Logan Jones was a bad man.

Logan Jones was a bad man.

The mantra didn't help, but I pulled the trigger anyway. There was some hesitance, I almost didn't pull it all the way back, but remembering the sadness on Tracy Anderson's face was enough to go through with it.

I watched Logan Jones's body silently crumbling to the floor, unknowingly holding my breath for the next minute. It was difficult to see with the car in the way, but I could faintly make out his body through the scope, watching intently for any movement.

There was no gradual rise and fall of his chest. There wasn't even a twitch in his fingers.

I felt positively numb.

My brain kept trying to send signals to my thought process, to my limbs, to all the necessary parts of my body to start getting ready for the escape. There was no need to wait for police and ambulances or the coroner's van. I had no one to report back to. Who knew how long it would take before someone would notice something off in the Jones' driveway.

Still, I couldn't move. My limbs felt as heavy as my heart, my chest wheezing as I tried to convince myself that I've done the right thing.

A dog barking in the distance momentarily pulled me out of my stupor, only reminding me I was now in a very compromising position. It came closer, pulling the owner holding the other side of the leash.

"Spots! No, not the garbage!" It was just a kid.

Imagine how horrified they would be finding me here with a sniper rifle, dressed up in a Spandex suit. Would they think I was some kind of super villain? Or super hero?

The adorable puppy of a bull terrier came closer, his snout curiously sniffing around the garbage, around me. I held my breath, hoping it wouldn't detect me between all the junk.

"Spots, no!"

I was dangerously close to being discovered. I could see the kids shoes from beneath the refuse bags. _Spot's_ snout was almost in my face. I wouldn't be put off if he licked me, I found him cute, but for a second I remembered the blue-eyed blonde and the scars on her hand. I wondered what kind of dog bit her. She wouldn't have survived this, having a curious canine sniffing around just like a two-year old would when they wanted to see and feel everything. You couldn't blame it for being cute.

A soft growl reminded me that the cuteness of this puppy was about to uncover me. How would I explain? Would I be able to make a run for it? Would I be caught?

"Let's go Spot!"

The growling was still there, but it got softer as the pup was pulled back towards the sidewalk.

I was completely frozen on the spot.

I was almost compromised and all I could think of was the _blonde_?!

No wonder the Agency wiped memories – it was such a distraction!

I swallowed hard, waiting a good ten minutes to ensure there were no other joggers or dogs around me. It would look hideously suspicious for me to just rise up out of the trash. I could play it off as being homeless, but the cheap black suit and very military spec sniper rifle would ruin that little lie.

My original idea was to wait until after dark, but the trash was about to be collected in a couple of minutes – erasing any guesses of what my exact location could have been, and any DNA that might have rubbed off on the garbage. The authorities would be baffled.

It was genius, even if I had to say so myself.

When I was certain the street had emptied out, I slowly started removing the body suit, not sad to part with it. At least I'd look a little bit more normal on the street, dressed in a tight tank top and compression shorts. I looked like a jogger. I shoved the suit into one of the trash bags and tied it carefully. Disbanding my rifle took more precision, but my hands were used to the quick disassembly process, even if my mind wasn't anymore. I shoved the pieces into the sporty backpack, and rose from behind the dumpster bins, pretending to stretch, all the while scanning the area to ensure I wasn't being watched.

I was shaking from fear and adrenaline, unable to process that I have just gone through this, and was getting away with it.

I took off with a jog in the opposite direction of Logan Jones' house, forcing myself not to look back, ever.

* * *

I was hoping to get out of New York immediately, and never have to come back.

But as luck had it, my train got delayed by an entire day, now only scheduled to leave at midnight.

It was far too long for my skittish nerves to wait. I had no idea what to do with myself roaming the streets of a city I was starting to fear and hate.

Normally I'd have a full itinerary planned out by the Agency, even their backup plans had backup plans. But since this was my first solo job, and hopefully the last, I had no idea to plan further than getting away.

So I was stuck, walking around with a suitcase and a sniper rifle disbanded neatly between my clothes. It didn't look suspicious but I was sure _I-just-shot-someone_ was written all over my face.

I couldn't go into any malls or places where metal detectors would signal the potential of a dangerous, armed person.

So I was left to wander the streets, in and out of coffee shops and eateries, careful not to make myself sick with all the finger foods they had to offer. It was the only way to keep myself busy. I didn't even bring my laptop, too scared of being found out.

I finally found a little book store, and decided to test the waters. Maybe in my previous life I liked reading. Or maybe I would subconsciously find a book about something I used to like.

After an hour of endless browsing, I was disappointed to find that nothing really perked my interests. I was tempted to try the music section as a last resort, but decided against it as the shop owner announced he was closing up for the day.

It was already 6PM.

I still had another five hours to kill before having to be back at the station.

I wondered if Paige would be at that nice, cozy bar tonight…

* * *

I wished I could tell the owner to pack up and move everything as it was all the way to San Francisco. I'd come to like this particular bar, not only because of Paige, but because it made me feel somewhat at home, despite my growing fear for this big city.

I craved to be on a buzz, torn between keeping sober for just a couple more hours, or just letting go. I needed to not think, I knew there was a destructive emotional turmoil waiting for me in that lonely train roomette for a solid three days.

Right now I didn't want to be in my own company.

I felt disgusted and disappointed.

"Will this become a regular thing now?" a familiar female voice whispered from behind, right in my ear.

I haven't even found a seat yet, my eyes still scanning the small crowd of loyal patrons. I already recognized some faces.

Slender fingers tightened around my waist, and with the help of the green-eyed brunette, I was fully inside the bar, seated in a small booth within seconds. I felt her weight on top of me before I registered what was happening.

She had my face cupped in her hands, leaning in, placing soft kisses on my lips.

I moaned and leaned into her touch, my eyes closing slowly, forgetting for a moment where I was. This was exactly what I needed – forgetting.

"Oh, God, Paige, can you please take this somewhere else?" an annoyed female voice announced from another table. The bar was still relatively empty so conversation was easy.

I heard laughter but ignored them, I ignored everything, keeping my eyes shut and just losing myself in the moment as Paige kept her hands on my face, keeping me out of sight from the unhappy spectators.

"Come on, Kyla, let's get going. Our reservation's at seven, you do _not_ want to be late for this."

I wanted to throw out a sarcastic comment, but decided to be the bigger person and swallowed my words. Paige wouldn't let me speak anyway, her tongue seeking entrance to my mouth, which I happily gave her.

We made out for another minute or so before she broke away for air. "Do you want a drink?"

I nodded eagerly, my resolve to stay sober gone out the door, along with the annoying two patrons who seemed to have a dislike towards Paige.

It was a good thing they left – they _didn't_ want to walk into the immaculate bathroom later while I had Paige scream my name in ecstasy.

* * *

Paige never got to scream my name. I never got drunk like I wanted to. I wasn't even slightly buzzed.

It was all very frustrating and the disappointment of the day's events lingered over me like a heavy cloud of fog.

I stepped onto the train, relieved to be leaving this city behind for good. Leaving this _life_ behind. I didn't care if Boz had disappeared or not, there was no way I could never do this again. It was too difficult, too emotionally destructive. I didn't want to be a killer.

I wanted a normal life, with friends, and a family.

My mind was immediately on the blue-eyed blonde again, and I frowned, wondering if it was even healthy obsessing over someone like this. It was thanks to her that I couldn't even have sex with Paige. The minute we closed that stall door behind us, all I wanted to do was run. I just didn't want to have sex with Paige, I didn't even want to think about it. Because every time I closed my eyes, the only person I saw was _her_. The blonde. With her bright smile, low voice, and mesmerizing blue eyes.

And every time I saw her behind closed eyelids, my body would jerk and I'd start sobbing.

I didn't know what was wrong with me. On top of being a killer I now also felt like a creeper, and an emotional wreck. But I couldn't help myself. There was something about that girl. I was just really devastated that she never called me…

* * *

 **What's wrong with me – Amanda Hardy**


	29. Superhero

**Glen**

 **Superhero**

 _"… Another employee of New York based accounting firm, Paterson & Hughes, have been confirmed dead, executed in a similar way as ex senior forensic auditor, Boz Anderson just a couple of weeks ago. Identified as Logan Jones, Mr. Anderson's immediate supervisor, his body was found by a neighbor two days later. Mr. Logan's wife and children were visiting relatives at the time, and Mrs. Logan was unavailable for comments."_

I listened with half an ear as I scanned through the case file we'd been building up on Sasha Miller's murder. After visiting the impound to check on the black SUV where one of her killers was found dead, Carlos had made an interesting discovery – a discovery we were not ready to share with the feds yet. We had to pull some strings to get the bullet analyzed without proper paperwork, but after years of good camaraderie with our CSI department, they had agreed to do us this one favor.

It was unfortunate that no fingerprints could be pulled, which was expected as these guys were obviously professionals, but it helped to know what kind of bullet we were looking at, and especially what kind of gun was used during the shooting. Both reports, on Sasha Miller and the killer, had been withheld from us. All we knew was what we could find on the news, and little snippets from station-talk. Captain Tanner was at least generous enough to inform us both victims had gunshot wounds to the foreheads, and that it was possible that the same gun was used.

So there was a pattern.

 _"… It has not been confirmed yet whether these two cases are linked, but both executions were done similarly, with gunshot wounds to the head, and speculation is that a high-spec military sniper rifle could have been the possible weapon."_

My head shot up at the TV screen mounted to the wall in our office. I knew there was no way they would broadcast the deceased on national television, but I was very curious to know what the entry-wound looked like. The mention of military sniper rifle was just too coincidental.

Both Sasha Miller and the unidentified killer had been executed with an A7 sniper rifle. These weapons were unavailable to civilians, or any law-enforcement agencies other than the military. And not _anyone_ in the military – highly specialized marksmen _only_.

I grabbed towards another case file, the file that had been haunting me for over a year. The San Francisco court killings were the exact same. The lawyers, politicians, and even one of the reporters were all shot with a different weapon than those the bank robbers had. So many people died that day, and for such stupid reasons. The bank robbery had gone awry when police were tipped off, so when the armed robbers made their way across the parking lot of the courthouse, they opened fire towards the exiting crowd, killing a handful of people and injuring hundreds. But in between the chaos was something else going on – several people were executed the same way, headshot wounds. It was a professional job, unlike the robbery, where random people got shot in random places.

Of course I didn't have much on that file either – I was in a complete different jurisdiction, another city, but my family was involved. An old friend got also got killed. Which was why I had this file.

I sighed, sitting back in my chair, rubbing furiously at my temples. There were just too many coincidences, or maybe I was just tired and making assumptions. But one thing was certain : military spec sniper rifles were used in all three cases. All three cases were politically linked.

I had a feeling we were looking at a massive cleanup operation here. The feds have probably already also made this link, but I didn't care. I wanted to find out more. And I was going to solve my own case, as well as Sasha Miller's. The feds could kiss my ass.

* * *

"Do you think the feds have gone so far to track that Dodge via traffic cameras? I mean, downtown LA is full of them, we could probably pick up where it made an exit. Maybe even catch a snapshot of the driver."

Carlos looked up at me from across my desk, his mouth stuffed with half a doughnut. We just couldn't quit. "Hmph…"

I had the bad habit of asking questions when he couldn't answer. Carlos was always quick with words, sometimes not thinking things through. Over the years I've learned when to _make_ him think. This was definitely one of those times.

I watched him chew painstakingly slow, Carlos was always one to enjoy the taste of food.

"I'm pretty much sure every angle we think of, they've already covered," he finally answered, which was what I expected had he not been chewing and didn't have to think about it.

"But it's been just over two months, if they were really that good and that invested, surely they would have caught her by now," I pressed, hoping he'd get where I was going with this. I really wanted to solve this case and prove once and for all that we were excellent detectives.

Carlos nodded, swallowing another bite of doughnut down with a sip of his latte. "True. And it would have made national news, which means obviously they hadn't caught her yet. Tanner would have told us to drop the investigation too. Do you want to check into this further, Carlin?"

I nodded eagerly. Of course I wanted to – I still believed this case was linked to the others. I haven't shared my views with my partner yet, knowing he'd patronize me about the court killings – a case I wasn't even supposed to have or work on. "I just think that they're too high-up in this, where we are working from the ground, you know, like DC Kline said. I say, let's show them how it's done from the bottom of the ranks."

Carlos knew me too well. "Is there something you know that I don't, Carlin?" He squinted at me, a look I was all too familiar with. It was time to let him in on some of the discoveries I've made.

"I got the report back from the basement. That bullet is used in an A7 sniper rifle. It's military spec and not available to anyone, not even anyone in the military. You have to be a highly qualified marksman to earn the right to use those babies."

"Okay… so what does this information mean to us?"

"Nothing, yet. The guy they found in the SUV; it was a perfectly executed headshot. The same as Sasha Miller. I can guarantee you that both those people were shot with the same gun. Possibly the same person. And I'll be damned if it's that woman from the surveillance video."

Carlos laughed, he had always been a bit of a male supremacist. "Highly unlikely, Carlin. I get your theory, though, and it wouldn't hurt to try and track that Dodge. But you know if it left LA, which she probably did, we have no jurisdiction."

"I'm well aware of that. I just want to see if we can get a snapshot – anything's possible. We can get a rookie in here to sit and do the tracking. If we happen to get a general idea in which direction that car fled, I could try pull a couple of strings in surrounding states."

"And what do you propose to do in the meantime?"

I realized Carlos was as eager as I was to dig into this case. We both had our different reasons, but he wouldn't have let me share all my thoughts if he didn't think it was worth it.

"Well, I have that Davies-case to work on, so while we wait for the traffic surveillance, do you want to head on out with me to visit the mother? Or are you still working on that fraud case?"

"Still stuck with it, Cap wants some answers by the end of the week. Go ahead, see what you can find out about the missing girl case. I'll arrange us a rookie and access to the traffic cam archives."

* * *

A week had gone by, and I could feel the effects of late nights and junk food. I happened to find myself in that position right now, the _McDonalds_ supersize meal a nice substitute to the doughnuts for a change. Not that it was any healthier, but at the moment I didn't care.

I was swamped. While thankfully dodging any new caseloads, the three mystery cases took precedence over anything else. I was almost too scared to open any of the other manila folders still stuck in my _In_ -tray. I haven't touched another case file this entire week.

Ashley Davies' file was open in front of me, and it felt like I had hit a dead-end. The only thing that kept me motivated to keep on trying was the desire of getting closure. I knew all too well what that helplessness felt like – my second case file was all about that. So I didn't want to let Kyla Woods down.

It proved to be difficult, though. The mother was a royal bitch, which just made her suspicious to every possible scenario I had on how her daughter had disappeared. I even made it clear that lack of cooperation from her side would lead to unpleasantries like a warranted house search among other things. I _did_ want that mansion searched – just to soothe Ms Woods' fear that her half-sister was by now probably a skeleton tied to a chair in the basement. The real reason was to get my hands on Christine Davies' paperwork, everything she had hidden away in her spacious office I'd accidentally seen while on my way to check out her daughter's room. I was almost certain I'd find motive there.

The problem came with persuading Captain Tanner to get me such a warrant. This case was eight years old and I had to give him more than the required convincing reasons to reach out to Judge Lincoln for that piece of paper.

And while having enough reasons, just barely convincing Tanner, it was now in the Judge's hands. I really hoped he would look at the file objectively. Our purpose was after all, to serve and protect. And solve cases. No matter how long it took.

I found myself staring at the collection of photographs we had of the girl. She was two years younger than me – _if_ she was still alive. She was a really pretty girl, her brown hair curling around her face, and it saddened me that our population got robbed of beautiful people. The boy in me would have loved to have met this girl. My fantasy had always been to help a damsel in distress and have her fall in love with me. It was obvious that I was still single – not many women my age agreed with my working hours. I had to find someone who was as busy, who had the same kind of unpredictable schedules we had. I'd tried the cop dating pool but those never worked out. People were too competitive in the force; that's why rookies hooked up with rookies, uniforms stayed with uniforms, and detectives ended up single.

The photographs I'd copied from Kyla Woods were pointless. There was a group photo taken from a high angle, most of the people looked down or away. I could only see the top of Ashley's head, her hair tied up in a loose ponytail. The other photos were of Ashley and her deceased father, one where Ashley was with another boy, and one that made me blush at places I shouldn't. She was kissing a girl.

This girl was hot. And it was a real pity that she was missing.

* * *

"What have you got for me so far, rookie?"

I was interested to know why Carlos had chosen this kid. He looked an awful lot like he should be out on the street with a training officer, running after street muggers or something. He was built to perfection and put my chubby stomach to shame. I wondered if he even had the brains to work a computer. He looked more like a jock fresh out of high school.

He reminded me of myself when I had just applied to the academy.

"Well, this is the map that I've been able to route out so far. This suspect definitely tried to alongside Interstate 5, or close to it, all the way from Downtown LA up to Mission Hills. From there I lost the Dodge at an intersection, still trying to figure out which way she'd gone. Traffic cams are thinning out there so it's a bit tricky."

I was dumbfounded. I hadn't expected him to draw us a map, much less get that far in just a week. Following a car through millions of traffic cameras in LA was like finding a needle in a haystack. It was close to impossible with the resource and technology we had. I retracted my thoughts about this rookie being a dumb jock and patted him on the back.

"Well done, kid, that's good going. If you get stuck then try to focus on finding a snapshot or take a break or something. The snapshot is quite important – if I can get a picture of her face I'll be one very happy detective."

"Yes sir, I'm right on it, sir."

He made me feel like I was eighty years old. "Don't call me that. It's just Detective Carlin."

"Right si– uhm, detective."

I watched for a few minutes over his shoulder as he effortlessly navigated back to the traffic cam footage and started surveying the screen with hawk-eyes. I was impressed. And I hoped that the FBI hadn't been able to do this in the two months they'd already been investigating this case.

Maybe junior here could become a fine detective like myself and Carlos one day. He was definitely an asset to this station.

* * *

 **Superhero – Tim McMorris**


	30. Looking for your name

**A/N: I know the progression of this fic feels very slow (that's probably because it is), but fear not… a lot of things will start happening from here on. Thanks to all my loyal reviewers and readers for not giving up!**

 ** _If you ever return to this place and come searching  
For the message I leave behind  
It's underneath this sky  
That's full of stars  
I was looking for your name tonight_**

* * *

 **TheDWall – CH28 : I hope you enjoy this chapter, I know it's somewhat late but I did post 3 last week ;) CH29 : Glen may or may not find out, his and Kyla's stories are small compared to the main plot, but something has to keep Ashley on her toes! Only time will tell what will happen!**

 **GirlsOnly – CH28 : Unfortunately Ashley has reached that crossroad where she had to make the choice, we might not all like the choices she makes but perhaps understanding will come later in the fic. She's still trying to figure things out herself, after all. Kelly's reason for being assassinated is not entirely a secret, but I'd rather you read about it – all the ghosts stories will reveal itself one way or another. Whether Spencer had something to do with that… I can't tell you ;)**

 **Guest – CH29 : Thank you! Yes, as the story moves forward Glen and Kyla will come to some revelations, but so will Ashley and even Spencer. Believe me when I say even I feel sad that Ashley had decided to kill again. But it's all like that for a reason ;) There will be more focus on Spencer in the next couple of chapters, keep on reading!**

 **Anjela78 – CH29 : Any review is appreciated, whether it's an essay or just a one-liner ;) Thank you for reading, I hope this chapter will be enjoyable! Have a great weekend!**

* * *

 **Ashley**

 **Looking for your name**

 _Emotional detachment_. I stared at the words until it became blurry, until my eyes burned and the salt in the forced tears stung painfully. After blinking furiously to rid myself of the burning sensation, the words still stared at me. Tab after tab, my laptop screen was filled with open browser windows, countless online tests all coming to the same unsympathetic conclusion.

Doctor Arthur Carlin would laugh at me and tell me not to ever trust what I read online. But he would never understand the pain that I didn't want him to see, that I didn't want _anyone_ to see.

My gaze rested on a busted fist, fingers stiff on the trackpad of my laptop resting unbalanced on my knees. Knuckles red, skin scraped off roughly, a slight cry for attention by trembling the longer I stared at it. This was the only pain anyone would ever get to see. Physical, something on the outside.

Because on the inside, I wasn't sure if there was anything to begin with. The organ pumping blood through my veins was merely that – an organ. It did not contain a soul to get dubbed the name ' _a_ _heart_.' My indifferent actions proved that over and over again.

I took a deep, languid breath, wondering for a moment if I should take up smoking. Closing my eyes I imagined the act of inhaling, allowing the nicotine to be sucked all the way into my lungs, charring it, then breathing out, a draft of white smoke kissing my lips before being puffed out into clean air. Or perhaps drinking. The burn of alcohol down my throat, until it didn't burn anymore. Until I couldn't remember my name anymore. There were also other, more hardcore things. Bad habits. Habits that could kill me faster.

I was by no means suicidal.

I just wanted to suffer a slow, painful death.

The masochist in me wanted to feel something. _Anything_. The martyr wanted attention. The narcissist was pleased by the way things turned out.

I came home last night to find Boz gone. I never even got to say goodbye. I never got to apologize to him properly. My ghosts seemed to be ecstatic, a sudden excitement buzzing in my condo. It all got too much – Aiden and Sean were strategizing. Sasha actually tore herself away from the TV long enough to look up and smile as I walked in the door, hope shimmering in her dull eyes. Kelly, of course, was antagonizing up to such a point that I thought I could deliver a solid punch. But instead of hitting her square on the jaw, my fist went right through her, cracking as it made contact with the face brick wall.

I chose to ignore them for a couple of days and locked myself in my room with only a bottle of water, some headache tablets, and my laptop. I plunged down on my bed, enveloped by silence as I pulled a pillow over my head to drown out the excited ghosts.

When the first tear escaped my eye I knew I was in trouble. I didn't want to feel so lost anymore. So alone, and frightened. I found myself curled up in a ball as if trying to squeeze the immense heartache from my body. But the only thing escaping was endless tears.

It went on for hours, until morning, when the sun came up and promised another day. Except, one less person got to enjoy that promise and make the best of it. And I was sure that it would take his family a long time to feel the warmth of the sun again.

I was happy for Boz, relieved at most, but I felt terrible. Tears came unexpectedly, and didn't come when I thought something would set me off. There were times when I felt like I wasn't in my own body; standing a couple of feet away, staring with great discontent at the heap of disappointment lying on the bed.

I considered quitting my job, packing up and fleeing. I wasn't sure where I'd run off to – I knew the ghosts would follow. They'd probably be disappointed if I gave up. Doctor Carlin wouldn't be happy.

But I had nothing to lose.

Endless thoughts of giving up and running, or surrendering myself to the police, or having myself checked into a mental hospital finally led up to the search of what was wrong with me. I already knew I was crazy, but I wanted to know why.

Emotional detachment seemed inconclusive to me, but it was something I could work with. I seemed to be good at the whole research and spying thing. Logan was six feet under, and Boz was gone. It had to count for something, didn't it?

After two days I got hungry and decided starving myself to death wouldn't be painful enough. I left my room, left the condo, hoping to avoid the ghosts just a little longer. I didn't know how to deal with them, how to deal with myself, how to deal with _anything_.

I didn't go far. I found solace under the pier on the beach, comforted by greasy French fries and the fading scent of that beautiful blue-eyed blonde on my hoodie. That beautiful blue-eyed blonde who'd disappeared off the face of the earth. I wish I knew her name. I wish I knew how to get hold of her. But every time I allowed myself to daydream about her, darkness took over my thoughts, reminding me what a terrible person I was. And then I just convinced myself that it was better for her to stay away from me. She probably knew already – hence never phoning me.

I stayed out on the beach for the entire day, even into dusk, the drop in early evening temperature eventually persuading me to head home.

It became routine to ignore the ghosts, whose excitement had died down by now because I wasn't making any effort to go after the next hit. It was easy to ignore them, really. They just gave me space, allowed me to fall deeper into myself, where it was dark and lonely.

I started making excuses at work, asking Dylan and Monica to cover for me. They appreciated the extra shifts as it meant extra money, but sooner or later someone was going to start asking questions. Right now, though, I didn't care.

I didn't even exercise anymore. Morning jogs turned into a walk right to the pier on the beach, and that's where I found myself wasting away hour after hour; the only good thing coming from it was some sun to my paling skin. And perhaps some weight to my thin frame from all the greasy fast foods I suddenly enjoyed consuming.

It was during such a time, when I was about to take a huge bite into a juicy cheeseburger, when a shadow fell over me, blocking off the morning sun from my bare shoulders.

"I've been looking for you all over."

My heart fluttered, but I was void of emotion. _Emotional detachment_. "Well, you found me."

I refused to acknowledge her. I didn't turn to soak up her beautiful features. I hardly even tried to figure out the tone in her voice.

She sat down next to me, uninvited. Untouched by my lack of feelings.

I lifted the burger and took the graceless bite my mouth had been watering for. It was tasty as much as it was unhealthy.

It was unnerving that she never said a thing, not even an apology, while I just ignored her and finished my burger and fries, taking my time, trying to record the taste to memory. If I couldn't remember anything else in my life, at least there was food, right?

Even long after I'd finished, she never said a word. We sat in silence, soaking up the sun, watching waves lazily crash onto the beach. It was almost comfortable. Except it wasn't. I wasn't. I was angry, and upset, and felt rejected, and alone; yet here she was, right next to me, offering a strange sense of comfort to my broken soul by merely _existing_.

When the sun started setting behind dark clouds just above the horizon, I finally dared to look at her as she sat hugging her knees, her chin resting on her arms. I felt the fluttering in my heart again, a knot in my throat, and an unwilling tear threatening to race down my cheek just to disappear into the sand.

She was breathtaking despite the evident melancholy consuming her. It didn't seem to bother her that we haven't spoken a word since she sat down next to me. There was a calmness exuding off her which I selfishly tried to bask in. She must have felt my eyes on her. When I blinked, it wasn't the side of her face I saw anymore. I stared right into her blue eyes, feeling confused and lost. There was so much sadness yet when she finally focused on me, it turned to something much deeper. She didn't have to speak, she didn't have to pull a face, it was as if I could see her heartache by just looking into her eyes.

It wasn't long before a slight blush tinted her cheeks and she dropped her gaze, an apologetic smile playing on her lips. She stretched out and pulled a piece of paper board from her jean pocket. I immediately recognized the handwriting.

"My phone was in my pocket and I found myself in the ocean again. So I went to the coffee shop every day for the past three weeks but you were never there. I wasn't sure how I could phone you, but I just want you to know that I didn't mean to break my promise."

I stared at the torn piece of paper cup in her hand; my name and number written hastily with a sharpie. The ink had smudged into the paper, but she seemed to have taken great care not to let it fade completely.

"I'm sorry," she whispered as an afterthought.

I took my time to look back into her eyes again, trying not to get lost in her presence. "It's okay," I finally managed, my heart fluttering again as another smile graced her lips. I preferred the smile over the sadness.

One day I would ask her about it.

"I won't be getting a new phone for a while, so I have no way to get into contact with you."

The fact that she still wanted to communicate with me jump started the lifeless organ inside me. For the first time in weeks I felt… I wasn't sure what it was, but it was _something_. A small smile crept up my own face as I kept staring at her. "I'll be here again tomorrow. And the day after that…"

I watched a perfect brow raise into her hairline. "Oh? Are you not working at the coffee shop anymore?"

I sighed and closed my eyes for a brief moment, trying not to think of reality and what it entailed. "I do, but I swapped out some shifts."

Her happy smile was contagious. "So would it be okay if I sit with you again tomorrow?"

I didn't want to seem overeager, but nodded enthusiastically anyway. Of course I would be okay with that. I was ecstatic. It took a lot to hide the sudden change of emotion, and wave of confusion thereof that washed over me. But I allowed myself to try and feel the relief and happiness at this change of events.

We didn't talk much after that, choosing to watch the last of the sunset in comfortable silence. I found myself draping my hoodie over her shoulders again, and without thinking, linked my fingers with hers, holding onto her hand as if she was about to disappear again – if not into the night, then into the pain that engulfed her.

But she didn't, and we waited it out, until soft, cool drops finally announced the arrival of those dark clouds hovering over the horizon earlier.

I pulled her up from the cold sand, disheartened that this perfect day had to come to an end, yet hopeful that the new day would promise being with her again.

I still didn't understand why exactly I was so attracted to her and had such a strong desire to be in her company. Well, the physical attraction was easy – she was gorgeous with her blonde hair cascading over her bare shoulders, the ever present black tank top and faded jeans seeming to be her favorite attire.

But on an emotional level it was something completely else. Maybe it was because we both felt sad and lost and needed just the tiniest bit of affirmation that we were not alone in this big, empty world. Whatever it was, I just knew that without her presence in my life, I didn't know how much longer I'd be able to live with myself and the things I've done.

"So uh, I'll see you tomorrow?" Anticipation sparkled in her eyes, it was even evident in her voice. She clutched my hand, swinging it lightly between us.

It made me feel like I meant something to her. To someone. It made me feel less alone. "Same place," I confirmed with a smile.

She returned the smile and for the first time since we met I saw something different in her eyes.

It was hope.

And just as quick as it appeared, it was gone – replaced with surprise – our tranquil trance broken by the heavens that had opened up above us.

I couldn't help but laugh and feel light at the same time as I finally let go of her hand, anxious to get out of the rain.

But before I forgot and missed it, again, I looked at her hopefully. "What's your name?"

Our voices were drowned out by the heavy downpour, but I was sure I heard the name _Spencer_ just before she turned around and ran for shelter.

I thought it was odd, trying to recall where I had heard it before, but didn't spend much time pondering about it.

I liked her name. I liked the way it rolled off my tongue. I even repeated it out loud a couple of times as I quickly made my way home.

For the first time in three weeks, I was happy to be back home.

Home.

Maybe, just maybe, it would grow on me.

* * *

 **Looking for your name – Armin van Buuren ft Gavin DeGraw**


	31. Halo

**A/N: I'm still here dear readers! Days where I struggled with the very next chapters, I decided to write from the end backwards since my head is there** ** _all the time!_** **There's just so much still to happen in this fic and it's an unbelievable journey!**

 **Anyway, let me not bore you with notes as you're probably more interested in the upcoming chapters!**

* * *

 **Anjela78 – CH30 : Yes, unfortunately the story is a bit dragged out, I can't change much now despite there being days where I wish I could cut some of the chapters, which I have, but then I find myself adding others – so it's still on 80! Spencer is still somewhat of a mystery, but will be a constant from now on until everything is finally revealed. Lots of action and drama to still follow! But, Spashley will prevail in the end ;) Thank you so much for loyally reading and reviewing!**

 **TheDWall – CH30 : I'm sorry it's almost been a month since I last updated – even after your pleading to update soon. I've been doing things a bit backwards lately – quite literally, just to ensure I get to the end the way I want to. Kelly is a pain and I'm sure a lot of readers agree, but her character is so important even though it's just a small role. Anyway, the sh!t is going to hit the fan with her… eventually. Keep on reading to find out! Thank you so much for loyally reading and reviewing!**

 **K1989 – CH30 : Ooooh there's a** ** _lot_** **that will be 'unfolded' regarding Spencer… and Kelly, and well, the rest of the story! I can't say much, I know Spencer's pretty much still kind of a stranger in the story, but I did warn everyone it was going to be a long fic! Thank you so much for loyally reading and reviewing!**

 **CeSB – CH30 : I know the story is very long and progressing slow, and I'm sorry but there's just no other way! I hope you haven't given up yet! Hopefully the next couple of chapters will satisfy you for the time being ;) Thank you so much for loyally reading and reviewing!**

 **GirlsOnly – CH30 : I am definitely writing some chapters in Spencer's POV as well, but at the moment there's still a couple of things Ashley has to figure out before I switch to Spencer. But fear not, it's coming… Spencer does have a big role in the story and we'll get more into her character as the story progresses. Thank you with regards to the music, like I've said before, it's been very much part of the whole experience of this particular story, so I've been very picky and finicky! And PS, I have not abandoned the fic - I've actually been working hard to straighten out the plot to get to the end ;) Thank you so much for loyally reading and reviewing!**

 **Guest – CH30 : I'm still here – and the fic is not forgotten, I promise! Enjoy the next chapter!**

 **Son-lyn – CH30 : You didn't exactly make me feel any younger when you actually had to** ** _look up_** **Dawson's Creek! And in my defense… that was probably the last male actor I ever thought was okay-looking until I realized my list of favorite female actresses were way longer! Waaaaaaay longer!**

 **Speaking of, let's start and end the age thing right here. Once you hit your 30s you will understand why people never reveal their age! You'll get there, don't worry! ;) And then you'll think back to this conversation (if you can remember because by then you'll be… wait for it… OLD) – and tell yourself that that weird writer from South Africa was right… and you'll be shy to mention your age too! :D (I'm your age turned around, BTW)**

 **So I gather then you're from the Netherlands? I've been in Amsterdam once – for one day – and it was absolutely amazing. I think we're actually in the same timezone, though when I was in Germany there was an hour difference. So the intercontinental coffee/tea-thing shouldn't be difficult at all! Except… tea is for old people!**

 **Anyway, let's get to the story and your awesome review!**

 **So, while I was writing backwards (as mentioned in the A/N) I realized there was one key thing that I've overlooked, and when you made that comment about 'Still Into You Too' and the emotional angst I realized where I could improve. I'm not going to reveal much, but the next couple of chapters will hopefully bring it out – just think 'the five stages of grief'.**

 **About Kelly… I know she had a very small role in SoN, but small as it was, it was actually not insignificant. Though this fic is far from canon – actually, not even at all – I still try to keep some of the characteristics in place. So she'll appear for a couple more chapters, and she's going to be a complete bitch, but it helps bring out the bitch in Ashley too ;) I don't like her either, and you're not too far off with your hunch.**

 **I'm so glad you enjoyed the chapter where Ashley had to kill Logan, I hope going forward the whole angst and definitely confusion will be portrayed like a person** ** _should_** **be feeling after killing someone – not that I would know, but well, I punched my younger brother in the face once and that already felt terrible. So there was a tiny bit of guilt to draw from ;)**

 **As unbelievable as it sounds, the whole thing where Ashley thought of Spencer while hiding after killing Logan – it was planned and actually there is so much reason for that – but I can't tell! It's taking more cups of coffee and caffeine to respond to your review than to write the actual chapters because it's taking everything out of me not to reveal anything (unless you find my notes again!) So, weird as it was, and untimely obviously, I didn't do it only to torture you and Ashley!**

 **I really appreciate all the constructive input, it helps so much! You were right, where Ashley has already hit rock bottom in SIYT, in this fic she's not there yet – but believe me, she will. I know exactly where, when, how – that entire chapter has been thought of more than any other chapters in this entire fic – it's kind of my driving point at the moment. I get nervous thinking what's coming… oh my word, it's going to be brutal. Let me just assure you now that however dark things might get, I'm perfectly happy and fine in my personal life!**

 **That being said, this is where I should really stop now and continue the story! Thank you for your amazing review and asking all the questions and challenging the moods of the chapters. You'd make a great editor!**

 **Mellyb14 – CH30 : Thank you for taking the time to review, even if it's only once I really do appreciate it! There will be chapters in Spencer's POV, we're getting to learn a little about her more through Ashley in the next couple of chapters, but there will be from Spencer too! Clay… he is a key to a lot of things, of which I can't tell you! You'll just have to keep on reading! I don't think Ashley will be telling the truth to Arthur any time soon – she's too scared of getting locked up – and too scared of any other consequences. But we'll see how she deals (or doesn't) :) I love the torture and 'so close' moments (like Kyla and Ashley being in the same bar) – it's like holding your breath and urging the characters to look up but then they never do! I'm hoping it keeps the readers on their seats! Thank you so much for loyally reading and reviewing!**

* * *

 **Ashley**

 **Halo**

 _"… get in the car."_

 _" Why?"_

 _"For one thing your house is ten miles back."_

 _"You so don't care about how I feel."_

 _"This whole day has been about how you feel!"_

 _"Oh, please come on, all you care about is having a good time! My mom was right about you."_

 _"Oh, good, now you and your mom can finally have something to agree on."_

* * *

I couldn't say that I was happy waking up from this dream, but I felt relieved to not know how it ended. Because endings meant people dying and me ending up with more ghosts.

I was slowly starting to get used to the faceless girl in my dreams now, but it still plagued me that I couldn't see her, or even remember her. The only purpose these dreams seemed to have was to remind me of what a terrible person I was. I was starting to come to the conclusion that if I was such a bitch before I became an assassin, I'd rather not remember anything about my past life, no matter how hard that was.

I let out a long sigh and opened my eyes, giving it some time to focus and adjust to the fading darkness in my room, pushing the thoughts about the dream to the back of my head, and thinking about the girl _with_ a face instead.

My fascination with the blue-eyed blonde – _Spencer_ – was perplexing. Yet, however confusing it was, I couldn't get myself to think about anything else _but_ her. It was a welcoming distraction, pulling me from dark places, helping me live through the denial of the things I've done, the person I've become.

As dangerous as my conscience tried to remind me it was, I didn't mind the state of mind I've fallen into at all. In fact, ignorance was bliss for me at the moment. I enjoyed slipping out of my own condo in the mornings like a one-night-stand. If my ghosts were getting pissed off that I've been ignoring them, I wouldn't even know. I ignored whenever they tried to strike up a conversation, and found it was easy to avoid them outside of the condo, which they rarely attempted.

Like in the hospital, they were never around whenever nurses or doctors came in. I wasn't sure whether that was some unspoken rule for them or if they did it out of courtesy of my sanity. Right now, I laughed behind their backs for finding a glitch in their ghostliness, and used that very flaw against them.

That's how easy it was to ignore them - I just surrounded myself with _people_.

And for escaping my condo constantly, I was rewarded with the presence of Spencer for hours on end. I was looking forward to our meetings on the beach becoming a regular occurrence. Talking was still only occasional, but it didn't matter - as long as she was there it made me happy. Comforted. Safe from the outside world.

It was this mild, unacknowledged excitement of seeing her again that had me wake up before my alarm clock woke. It's been like that for the past three days; ever since she apologized about not phoning me.

I appreciated the sun coming up earlier now; we were halfway into spring and somehow the change of season also instilled some change in me. It could be my imagination, but I was aware that even though I haven't been exercising anymore, my spirit was still lifted. I enjoyed the early sunrise and later sunset. I enjoyed the longer, gradual warmer days. It was this appreciation that had me jump out of bed, actually feeling hyped and in the mood to go out for a jog on the beach.

I showered quickly and like the expert assassin I was, stealthily made my way out of the condo without waking the ghosts in the living area. I doubted that they really slept, but I wasn't about to test that theory - not while I was trying so hard to avoid them.

Of course, luck wasn't entirely on my side.

As I turned around after ensuring the front door closed with a soft click, I stared right at Aiden. We both stood frozen, blinking at each other, and I couldn't formulate an excuse fast enough to avoid the squabble I knew we were going to have.

"It's been a while," Aiden commented nonchalantly. If he was trying to ease me into an argument he had another thing coming.

"Not long enough," I mumbled, opting to ignore him and go on my jog as planned.

"Ash, you can't avoid us forever."

I gritted my teeth at the way he said my name, trying hard to bite back a nasty reply.

Why did he have to ruin my good morning?

"You know we need to talk about Logan Jones and the way forward."

For days I've been pushing that name from my mind. For days I've just ignored the heaviness that weighed down on me after what I've done.

How dared Aiden bring that up, how _dared_ he ruin my blissful ignorance and perfect morning?

My heart hammered violently against my chest as I stared at him in disdain. It felt alarmingly difficult to breathe under his gaze and the memory of Logan Jones flooding my thoughts. I painstakingly remembered seeing the family drawing on the open fridge door, seeing the guy with his wife and kids in their driveway just the week before. Seven year old twins - a boy and a girl - and a teenage boy, probably fifteen or sixteen. Their mother - his wife - took them to school every morning in their charcoal minivan.

I squeezed my eyes shut for a brief moment, as if to squash the image from my memory.

It took another minute to compose myself and swallow the lump in my throat. "There's nothing to talk about, and there won't be any ways forward."

I squared my shoulders, cleared my throat, and with the straightest face I could muster, I pushed past Aiden and made my way down the steps and out the front gate.

I never turned around to see if he was still there.

* * *

"You seem upset."

No _hello_ , no warm smile. I looked up at Spencer, cautiously standing a few feet away from where I sat on the sand.

Instead of a smile that lit up her face, like I'd seen every morning for the past couple of days, her brows were furrowed and she looked… _concerned_.

I hated how easy it was for her to read me. And I haven't even said anything, I haven't even _looked_ at her yet and she already knew from my posture that something was wrong. I also hated how I didn't really hate it.

I made an effort to offer a smile, encouraging Spencer to sit down next to me instead of feeling scared and standing so far away. If anything, I craved her presence more than ever, even if I'd never admit it out loud.

She seemed to get that too, and without hesitation plunged down unceremoniously, her long limbs automatically tangling together to have her sit cross-legged. The sand barely moved under her weight. I stared in awe, and with a chuckle. It was the funniest thing I've ever seen.

Spencer finally looked at me after getting comfortable, a smile playing on her own lips. "That wasn't entirely planned, but I'm glad to see I could make you smile."

I always smiled when she was around, lately anyway. And even when she wasn't around.

Her gaze was still on me, but the playful smile had turned soft. "You can talk to me, you know. I'll be here whenever you're ready."

Her statement took me by surprise, and I knew it reflected on my face. Where did I even _start_? My heart raced as I imagined myself sitting here on this very same beach with Spencer, telling her my life story – however short it was – since I could barely remember anything. I couldn't fathom what her reaction to my being an assassin would be, but I knew she'd never look at me the same, soft way she was right now.

I sighed heavily and broke eye contact, my eyes landing on my hands instead. I'd been playing with the cold sand between my legs, drawing patterns, writing my name, writing my ghosts' names… It was all senseless, really. What I _felt_ like doing, was build a sandcastle.

"I'm sorry, that was too forward – "

My head snapped up, and I felt bad immediately. "No, _I'm_ sorry. It's just… there's just so many things. I don't even know where to start." I swallowed hard, trying to keep unwanted tears at bay. Spencer still had that soft look on her face, encouraging me to open up, but I also saw understanding dawn in her eyes – I just wasn't ready yet. Perhaps there was one thing I could share with her. "Would you like to build a sandcastle with me?"

I had no idea where that desire came from, but maybe I could share the little bit I knew about myself with her while keeping busy in the sand. It just seemed like a fun thing to do, with Spencer.

I stared at her hopefully, and saw her eyes flash with excitement. There was a full smile on her face now, reaching those beautiful blue eyes.

"I'd love to."

Agreeing to do something so childlike with me made my heart skip beats. We still didn't know much about each other, we hardly knew _anything_ about each other, but this girl had me hoping and dreaming things, and I just felt grateful that she could spend time with me without the pressure of having to talk. Though I desperately wanted to learn more about her, I was content with the slow pace things were going. Ironically, at this slow pace, it finally felt like I was _living_ somewhat.

"I'll start digging the trench, so we can get some water up here. What do you say to starting with the inner buildings?" Spencer suggested. She was already on her knees, ready to hollow out sand with her hands formed into digging-buckets.

I appreciated the view, and wished I had my camera with me to take a picture. For all the memories I'd lost, I was eager to start creating new ones, and what better way than this? I vowed to myself to bring it in future, suddenly open to doing more fun things with Spencer.

"I was in an accident a couple of months ago, and I lost my memory," I admitted shyly as we eagerly worked on the sandcastle in silence. I wasn't entirely comfortable about lying to her, but both statements were true, just not in the same sentence.

Spencer kept digging, her arms showing off taut muscles as she strained to plough deeper into the beach. But her attention was now on me, and I knew she was waiting for me to continue.

I did my best to keep on forming rounded buildings with cupped hands, and thought carefully about what I was going to say next. "I've mostly recovered – except for remembering things. I still see a therapist every week. It might still take a couple of months before anything comes back – _if_ it comes back."

Her arms seized movement and Spencer sat back on her knees, wiping away a thin layer of sweat from her face with her forearm as she did so. "I'm really sorry to hear that."

I watched as she frowned and struggled with words, so I decided to continue, with vague information only. "I don't remember who I was, you know, before the accident. I have no idea what I did for a living, or what my hobbies were… I don't even know where I grew up or went to school."

I've cried about the loss many times before, so it was easier to keep the tears at bay. But it wasn't really easy to finally admit this to someone. I haven't even told Arthur Carlin about these things.

Spencer abandoned the trench and carefully plopped down next to me, her cool hand covering mine. "I can't even begin to imagine how hard that must be for you. Do you… do you remember any family at all?" she pressed carefully.

Her eyes were filled with so much concern and sorrow that I couldn't help the tear that escaped my own. I shook my head, breaking eye-contact. "All I know is my dad is dead, and my mother… well she left sometime during high school. I can't remember their names, or even what they looked like."

"Have you gone to the police? I mean, maybe someone could help you track your mother down, somehow. Their technology is fairly advanced nowadays, I'm sure they'd find out where you're from with only your fingerprints and – "

I stopped listening when she said police. There was no way I'd willingly go to the police – they'd lock me up! Of course, Spencer didn't know this, and even though she was only trying to help, I couldn't help but snap at her. "No!" I pulled my hands back, feeling flustered by mild panic settling in my stomach. "No police, okay?"

"I'm sorry – "

"Don't be. Just…" I sighed in frustration. Spencer looked wary about my reaction, and I couldn't blame her. I hated having to lie to her, but some things were just better that she didn't find out, _ever_. "I'm sorry," I breathed out. "It's just, they haven't been able to help, and it's been a rather complicated and tiring experience for me."

That seemed enough to placate her, for now. Spencer waited patiently for me to look into her eyes again, and finally offered a small smile. Her hand reached out for mine once more, and I allowed her to take it. "I won't pressure you into doing anything you don't want to do. I'm happy that you're just telling me all of this, I know it can't be easy."

"Thank you," and I meant it, genuinely. She had no idea how good it felt to just tell _someone_ that I had no idea who I was. Aiden didn't count.

We continued building the castle after that, not saying much, but the silence wasn't awkward at all. Spencer didn't press for any more information, and I felt relieved, not sure that I could deal with any more interrogation. _Baby steps_ – it was enough for me now. Maybe she'd even share something about _her_ life in the near future.

It took us the entire day to build our fort; it started small but by the time we were done, the surrounding moat had been moved out several times, now allowing for a makeshift water supply within the walls of the castle. The buildings weren't the best – we had no tools or toys to work with – but with some stones and shells decorating everything it was fairly obvious what was windows and doors, thus giving character to otherwise round, hand-printed heaps of sand.

We stood back and admired our handiwork, aware that the tide would wash it away before the sun completely set on the horizon.

"Well, one thing is for sure. We can scratch off handcraft from your possible hobby-list," Spencer smirked.

I was slightly stunned by the playful insult, but with Spencer smiling at me like she did, I could hardly take offense. "I could say the same for you. That moat will have the castle flooded before the tide even reaches it."

She dug _so_ deep into the sand I was fairly convinced we'd find an underground cave or something.

"Hey! I worked hard on that moat! You should've reinforced the walls, then."

And instead of complimenting each other on the rather amateur castle, we found it more endearing to dish out insults. I couldn't remember the last time I laughed so much. Not only was Spencer extremely beautiful and luring with her ocean-blue eyes, she was also funny and caring and very easy to talk to, despite our conversations being few and far between. I couldn't help but feel attracted to her. And not only her, but also to the carelessness I was feeling – as if my world was a wonderful place to live in.

The more time I spent with Spencer, the less I wanted to go back to my condo and face reality.

It pained me to part for the night; we were hugging now and I found it hard to let go of her. But maybe one day through wishful thinking we'd be able to walk to the same house hand-in-hand, and call it our home…

* * *

 **Halo – Burns out Bright**


	32. Break Stuff

**A/N:** ** _"A moment of patience in a moment of anger prevents a thousand moments of regret"_** **– Ali Abi Talib**

* * *

 **TheDWall – CH31 : Working backwards have definitely assisted in finishing up the last chapters, but unfortunately I couldn't get them to meet in the middle just yet! Perhaps another ten chapters or so then things will almost run all the way to the end! I'm sorry about this chapter also being late, but to make up for it, another one will follow right after this update! Ashley is in a weird space right now, but slowly it's going to catch up with her – as you'll see in this very next chapter. Ashley definitely needed the day out with Spencer, there will be more of them! It's a slow burn for Spashley right now, but consider it like a rollercoaster ride and you're on your way up, slowly… be prepared for what's coming! Thank you so much for reading and reviewing!**

 **Anjela78 – CH31 : I'm glad you liked the chapter, there will be a lot more of them, I promise! I know it's been taking forever, sadly life gets in the way sometimes and it's hard to juggle between long work hours and just wanting to keep on writing! But I won't give up, this fic will get to its destination! Thank you so much for reading and reviewing!**

 **SonFan – CH31 : I will never ditch this fic, I promise! I'm really REALLY sorry that the last couple of updates have been so few and far between, I'm working to change that, and I promise that there is still a LOT to this story! Thank you for reading and reviewing and not giving up!**

* * *

 **Ashley**

 **Break Stuff**

I barely set foot back into my condo when my ghosts thought it was the appropriate time for an apparent intervention. I stood frozen in the front door, hand still on the doorknob, mouth slightly agape. They had all teamed up against me; Aiden, Kelly, Sean and even Sasha!

Standing with their arms crossed, just inside the door, I couldn't help but mimic their stance and wait for an explanation.

"It's time for you to come out of denial and face what's happening, Ashley," Kelly huffed. "And also, I'd really like to get out of this shithole of yours."

Aiden nodded firmly in agreement and immediately my jaw clenched as he opened his mouth. "I tried to warn you this morning."

"How long have you all been conspiring behind my back?" This was ridiculous! They were being ridiculous!

"It's been two weeks already, Ashley," Sasha pleaded. I was surprised that she even talked at all.

"Look, we know it's not been easy on you, but it's not easy on us either," Sean added. He at least tried to sound sympathetic, but I couldn't care less. How _dared_ they ambush me like this?

I finally closed the front door behind me, and with as much poise as I could, stalked past them towards the living area. I was about to make a beeline to my room, but they'd just follow me in there anyway.

I threw myself down on a couch and waited impatiently for the ghosts to follow. One by one they all plopped down, staring at me, waiting.

"Well? _What?_ " I couldn't help but snap. I couldn't believe they'd ruined such a perfect day for me. Just the mere thought of Spencer instilled some calmness over my rapidly beating heart.

Right until Aiden opened his mouth again. "Logan Jones. Talk us through it."

I felt a familiar heaviness settle over my chest, clenching tightly, making it very difficult to breathe. As much as I tried to block the events from my head, every time they mentioned his name, I was taken right back to that day. That week.

I sighed, feeling extremely exposed and vulnerable under the judgmental stares of the ghosts. I didn't care much for Aiden or Kelly; it was mostly Sasha and Sean who got to me. Sasha especially. She was still a kid – she didn't have to know how I executed a family man right after his wife and kids left for school break. She didn't have to know how deceitful people could be – she didn't have to know how Logan Jones removed his wedding ring every morning before he got into his car. Despite having an asshole of a father, she still believed in family values. Her goal in life was to help people be happy. Who was I to shatter that as an afterthought after callously taking her young life in front of hundreds of students?

"There's not much to talk about." And there wasn't – they all died the same way, didn't they?

"Not much to talk about? Are you _kidding_ me? You're a serial killer! Aside from being completely heartless, you owe it to us to get us out of here!" Kelly exploded.

My hands started shaking, and my breath came out ragged as I tried to contain myself. But Kelly's indignant looks and her self-righteous attitude had me on defense. "I don't owe you anything! It's not my fault that I had to take away your sorry excuse of a life! Maybe if you treated people better you'd still be with your little fiancé and your perfect little flower shop!"

I knew I was trudging on dangerous ground, but Kelly just made me so _angry_. And it was fairly easy to throw insults back at her – she was a bitch, after all.

"Ashley – " Surprisingly, it was Sean who tried to calm me down, and not Aiden.

I shook my head, not prepared to give in, or worse, apologize. "No, Sean, she needs to hear this. You _all_ need to hear this. Hate me for all it's worth, okay? I took away your lives, and I'm _sorry_. But don't…" I took a deep breath, my face flushed as the words dangled ahead of me before I could properly think it through. "Don't, _ever_ , think you can control me. You're all dead and frankly, I'm starting to doubt that you're real!"

I was half hoping that it wasn't going to happen, that they weren't real and me saying the words out loud wouldn't have repercussions as I'd previously discovered. But the pain shot through my forehead all the way to the base of my neck _so_ quickly I hardly had time to realize it was happening before nausea took over. I lost the contents of my stomach right in front of them and found myself convulsing on the floor, clutching at my head, my ears ringing loudly. For a moment I was convinced that I'd open my eyes to find myself in a war zone, having just survived an explosive or flashbang gone off right beside me. It was impossible to even think.

"You can't say things like that."

Through the buzzing in my ears I could faintly make out the smug tone in Aiden's words.

Despite the pain, this entire situation just made me _more_ angry. I could admit I was a bad person and treated other people like shit. Like in the handful of dreams about the faceless girl I apparently kept hurting, like the people whose lives I so ruthlessly took, destroying families, destroying hopes and dreams. But I was paying dearly for it. I had no recollection of who I was, or supposed to be. I'd lost just as much as they did – sometimes I thought I was a ghost as much as they were. I'd been betrayed by a lover, followed, gunned down, _run_ down, yet here I was, left to pick up the pieces every single time, _alone_. So they had _no_ right to force me to make their lives better by killing even more people – and then having the audacity of accusing me of being a heartless serial killer.

"We're as real as that vomit you're drowning in, so you better deal with it," Kelly kept taunting.

I finally managed to get a grip on myself and sat up, my hands trembling as it reached to wipe disheveled hair from my damp face. The pounding ache in my head was excruciating, and I knew by getting worked up I was making things worse.

But how much worse could it really get? I was already living in my own personal version of hell.

Kelly looked ready to dish out as many insults as it would take to get me to give in, Aiden refused to meet my gaze, Sean looked weary and Sasha had a mixture of shock and caution painted all over her face.

It riled me up even more. "Fuck you. Fuck you _all_."

I pushed myself off the floor, shutting down, shutting out the ghosts who stared open-mouthed as I marched to my room, hands still trembling as anger circulated through my bloodstream.

* * *

I found myself missing the cozy New York bar despite hating the city. I missed Paige and her willingness to let me have my way with her. I missed Los Angeles, free drinks from Duarte's Place, and Madison; also willing to let me take out my frustrations out on her flexible, muscled body. I missed the coffee shop, and Monica, whose curiosity allowed me to adore her body into submission.

I didn't miss Spencer, not yet, and I wasn't sure if I wanted to miss her like this. Not when I was like this; hurting, angry, and charged with so much sexual frustration that I found myself in an unfamiliar bar, shamelessly flirting and checking out girls all around me. Alcohol made it easier to forget the beautiful blue-eyed blonde, and after more JD's than I could remember, I found myself in a bathroom stall, pressed up against the locked door, a nameless redhead's hands all over me. And I allowed her; allowed her to lift my halter top up to my neck, hands roaming my burning skin, occasionally reaching under my bra, sometimes dipping slightly into my jeans, but not far enough to satisfy my needs.

She was teasing me, and as much as I loved it, it was driving me insane. I wanted her to get me off because my need to satisfy her was greater. I had to put my body to work, rid it of the anger and excess frustration I was feeling. But this girl was hardly the right girl; she seemed frail, too drunk to realize I needed more than just a get-me-off-once. I needed a bed, someone strong, who could take what I was about to give them for an entire night.

This girl wasn't it.

I groaned, getting impatient, ready to ditch her and find someone else. Being angry and worked up like this didn't feel too great. I felt like the terrible person I was starting to believe I was.

"You feel so good," the girl whispered close to my ear, her breath hot on my prickly skin.

I squeezed my eyes shut, my jaw clenching tightly as she _finally_ got the hint and reached where I needed her to.

It wasn't long before I was out of breath, bright spots exploding behind tightly closed eyelids. I let out a gasp as I felt temporary relief wash over me, forgetting about my troubles for a couple of minutes.

When I came down from my high and opened my eyes, her hands stilled and she smiled dreamily at me. I couldn't say that it made me feel giddy or even want this anymore.

Just the thought of that had more anger course through my veins. I just couldn't let go.

The redhead let out a startled gasp as I switched positions in a swift move, pinning her hands above her head, leaving bite marks all over her neck. She squirmed against the door, letting out a mixture of giggles and labored breaths. I closed my eyes as I trailed kisses down to her breasts, and focused on keeping my emotions in check. The last thing I wanted to do was hurt someone.

Not that _that_ revelation helped any; I _killed_ people. I hurt families. I hurt parents and children. And somewhere in that jumbled mess, I ended up hurting myself.

My eyes squeezed shut tighter, my own breathing becoming ragged. It was getting harder to keep the trembling from my hands, to keep the anger bottled in. I fumbled furiously with the girl's pants, unbuttoning her jeans, pulling them down to her ankles unceremoniously.

She didn't even seem to notice, or care.

It scared me, so I slowed down, forcefully willing my hands to rub softly up and down her half-naked body, drawing strained groans from her lips. She might not be the right girl who could take me all night, but I wasn't going to disappoint her.

So I didn't.

When another girl came to me an hour later, whispering in my ear that she was in the stall next door when the redhead announced painfully loud that she couldn't any more, I knew I'd found my match for the night.

Meet Ashley Davies, ruthless killer, lady seducer, and self-proclaimed stud.

* * *

The motel room was cold, and it didn't help that the brunette stranger next to me had hogged the scarcely blanketed bed. On the other hand, I was grateful to be woken up by the chilly early morning hours. There was no alarm clock like at my condo, so it took a moment to adjust to the complete darkness surrounding me.

I sat up slowly, anticipating the constant thud against my temple, a painful reminder of the night I hadn't yet put behind me. The anger had subsided somewhat, but the moment my thoughts drifted back to what had caused these shameful actions in the first place, my pulse started racing.

I tried not to think about the demanding ghosts back home, and that bitch Kelly, or the deceased Logan Jones. But it was difficult, sitting in the aftermath of my pent up anger. The girl next to me stirred, and I held my breath, hoping she wouldn't wake up. If my own body ached slightly after everything we'd done, I couldn't even imagine how worn out she must have felt.

A sick smile curved my mouth – I couldn't help but feel smug about it. Working out and keeping fit had its benefits – even if I hadn't done it in a while.

An almost inaudible groan left the brunette's lips, and I knew she was sleeping peacefully. Perhaps blissfully satisfied.

It was my cue – she was in a deep enough sleep for me to get out of bed and leave unnoticed.

Once outside the dingy motel room, I let out a shaky breath as my eyes adjusted to the dimly lit parking lot, and reached for my phone in my pocket, curious to know what time it was.

 _05:10_

The sun would be up soon.

I had no desire to head back home; I was still angry and was definitely not in the right mindset to face the ghosts – I might just try to kill them all a second time.

So I opted for the beach, hoping a good, hard run would ease some of the tension before I had to face Spencer.

 _Spencer_.

A new heaviness settled over me.

Why did it feel like I had just somehow _cheated_ on her?

* * *

 **Break Stuff – Limp Bizkit**


	33. Thirty-three

**Ashley**

 **Thirty-three**

After avoiding Spencer yesterday, I felt nervous and downright terrible for just ditching her. I knew that she couldn't really be mad at me for not being on the beach – despite having gone for a run – we hadn't exactly promised each other to meet every single day.

But I still felt bad. I just couldn't face her after running myself into a stupor, trying hard to put the rough, shameful night I had behind me. It helped until I had to go home and get cleaned up, but the moment I sat down on my bed to get dressed, exhaustion washed over me and I passed out.

Thankfully I was left alone; my unwelcome house guests were blissfully ignoring me as much as I was ignoring their existence.

Sitting barefoot on the cool sand with my trainers beside me, dressed in jeans, a tight fitting band T-shirt and my hoodie, I gracefully sifted sand through my fingers for an hour before the blonde made her appearance. She didn't seem upset or mad in the slightest, but there was a concerned frown on her forehead, and as she tilted her head after acknowledging me, I couldn't help but feel the butterflies in my stomach at the pout she sported.

"Should I be worried?" she asked, carefully sitting down next to me. She had a backpack with her, and slid it off her shoulder once she was comfortable.

I wanted to tell her _yes_ , I wanted her to feel something for me like I apparently felt for her. I wanted her to be concerned about my wellbeing, about my whereabouts, about _me_.

I knew it was incredibly selfish of me, but I couldn't help but want to feel _wanted_ by this blonde.

I sighed out loud and shook my head slowly. "I'm sorry, it's just been a weird day yesterday."

I watched from the corner of my eye as Spencer nodded to my vague explanation and mimicked me sifting sand through my fingers. I could tell she had something on her mind; whether it was curiosity about my whereabouts, or perhaps something else, I couldn't be too sure. But she was biting her lip – and I felt the butterflies again – as if she was trying to hold back the words on her tongue.

We were awkwardly silent for a couple of minutes before she stopped and turned to face me, still pouting.

I held my breath, trying to prepare myself for the barrage of questions that was sure to come. But Spencer surprised me; instead of asking about why I disappeared on her yesterday, she stilled my hands, gripping them tightly in her own, and sucked in a gulp of air before spilling words that melted my frozen heart.

"I kindof had a surprise for you, but I'm not mad, I mean, we don't have a set agreement. Plus, if you'd like, we can still today… I mean, if you'd like to… join me for the day…" She was shy with her words but her eyes held so much promise of whatever the surprise was, that I couldn't help but yelp out a quick _yes_.

Well, that was embarrassing.

"I mean, I'd love to. And I'm really sorry about disappearing yesterday, I had a rough night and then went for a run and passed out and – "

Spencer smiled sweetly and squeezed my hands to shut me up, and for the first time I noticed how soft and light hers were. If that even made sense. "It's okay, you don't have to explain."

"One day I will, I promise," and I meant it. One day I'd tell her a little bit more about the demons I was fighting. I wanted her to know that I needed her, as much as I hoped she needed me.

Spencer gave my hands another squeeze before jumping up and pulled me up with her in a swift move. "I know. But let's let go of the heaviness for now. I hope you'll like what I have planned for you."

She pulled me next to her and together we started walking to the main road, hand-in-hand.

My heart was doing all kinds of weird things at the realization, but I didn't care. Whatever this effect was Spencer had on me, I didn't want it to go away, ever.

* * *

At first I was somewhat confused as the first place we went to was an old diner just a couple of blocks away from my condo. We were still facing the beachfront, but I'd never jogged this way so discovering the little hidden jewel felt like some kind of mini victory.

I could tell by the wide smile on Spencer's face that she was pleased with herself for bringing me here.

And I had to give her a lot of credit for it – after taking a bite of their fresh, homemade blueberry pancakes, the berries exploding in my mouth – it was definitely something worth smiling about.

She didn't even have to ask, so I chuckled with a full mouth as Spencer wanted to know if it was any good.

I finished chewing, and only after another small bite, closing my eyes as the fresh berries popped in my mouth, I reassured her that she'd won over my stomach.

"Good," she replied with another smile, reaching for her knapsack. I watched curiously as she pulled out a small, purple notebook, opening it at the back, and scribbled something down with a pencil chewed heavily at the back.

I couldn't help but smile as she paused, the back of the pencil immediately in her mouth, and then quickly jotted down something else.

She must have felt my eyes on her, because she blushed as she looked up. "What?"

It was my turn to blush lightly, but I was quick to hide it. "What are you writing?"

Spencer quickly shut the notebook and shoved it back into her bag, her smile mysterious as she faced me. "You'll see."

I believed myself to be an impatient person, but with Spencer, I trusted her inexplicably, so I surprised myself by nodding in understanding and finished my pancakes.

Spencer only had one, so she waited patiently for me to enjoy the goodness of this special little diner that I'd learn later had been in the Bay Area for half a century. Simply dubbed _Angel's Diner_ , I couldn't help but think of the irony – it really felt like the pancakes had been made by _angels_. It was _that_ good.

"I hope you're comfortable with walking a bit – I'm sorry, I should have warned you – "

I thought about my choice of shoes and interrupted Spencer with a smile. "I'm good with walking, don't worry." To reassure her even more, I shifted towards the end of the booth and lifted one foot for Spencer to inspect my running shoes.

She was instantly relieved and the wide smile was back on her face, a slight blush still tinting her cheeks. "I'm glad, I'm sorry, I'm not really good at this."

"I don't know what you have planned, but it started really well, Spencer. So I can assure you that there's nothing to worry about." I reached out and gave her hand a slight squeeze, drawing her gaze from her hand up to my eyes, and we found ourselves just staring at each other for a minute.

My heart had picked up speed and I couldn't help but get lost in her wide, clear blue eyes. A smile formed on my lips and I felt ecstatic when she mirrored my actions. Whatever it was she was doing…

"Can I get you ladies anything else?"

Of course. Leave it to the friendly waitress to interrupt this moment of intensity. I couldn't decide whether to be relieved or sad.

"Just the bill, please?" Spencer asked politely.

I was instantly brought back to reality at the words, and squeezed at Spencer's hand again before letting go. "No, let me, please?"

Spencer shook her head. "No, you don't have to, really. This was my treat."

I felt uncomfortable but extremely giddy and flattered. This felt all too much like a date. Except it wasn't – it was barely 8AM in the morning and we merely had breakfast, a day full of surprises still to follow. So I let it go, figuring whatever Spencer had planned, I'd repay the gesture some way or another.

* * *

All feelings of anger and confusion I'd felt the previous two days were completely pushed from my mind as Spencer flagged down a metered cab, and ordered the driver to take us to Mosswood Park Amphitheater a couple of miles away.

I've heard about the park before, but my accident and personal activities since my arrival in San Francisco had prevented me from doing any sightseeing or enjoying anything the city had to offer, really.

I wasn't entirely sure what Spencer's surprise was, or the whole deal with going to these places, but I was in awe, and basked in the feeling of _lightness_ as she grabbed my hand when the taxi stopped, pulling me with her as she slid out of the backseat. She hastily paid the driver and then grabbed for my hand again, apologizing about the rush with laughter as we hurriedly made our way over the lush lawns towards the sound of faint drums in the center of the park.

As we got closer I felt my heart rate picking up again for reasons unknown. I could make out a small crowd sitting in a half-circle, two guys in the middle with bongo drums in their laps. The sounds vibrated through my body, and I felt my chest tightening as a familiar feeling of rhythm flooded me. I was drawn to the drumming, and as we neared the group, Spencer slowed down to gauge my reaction.

"I've only done this once – shall we?" She didn't wait for my answer, obviously having read me well – she paid a guy sitting to the side of the group, surrounded by a handful of single drums, and he handed us each a drum after taking the money.

Confusion washed over me; it felt strangely familiar to hold the bongo drum in my hands, yet I had no recollection of ever playing drums or joining a drumming circle. But excitement pulsed through my veins and I sat down next to Spencer in the half circle, ready to follow the lead of the drum circle facilitators.

We eased into a slow groove of the _Habanera_ as explained by the instructor, and I couldn't help but beam at Spencer for bringing me here to do this. I had no idea _why_ , or even _how_ she knew, but I found myself thinking that I was extremely grateful and had to find a way to thank her.

It was an hour later and the facilitators finally slowed down, easing us out of a fast Latin number, and as I finally stopped I could feel the palms of my hands stinging after joyfully beating on my bongo for so long.

I was disappointed that it was over, but at the same time I couldn't wait to hug the blonde and thank her.

When we finally pulled apart, Spencer had that wide smile on her face again, and her eyes sparkled with excitement. "I'm glad you liked it. But it's far from over."

* * *

Next we headed right into the heart of San Francisco, crossing the Oakland Bay Bridge in mid-morning traffic. I didn't mind the occasional gridlocks we found ourselves in, too mesmerized by the scenery and still blown away by the drumming session we had in the park.

My mind was reeling with questions but I forced myself to enjoy everything Spencer had planned; we had enough time later to discuss the reasoning behind this day of surprises.

I immediately recognized the area around us as we entered the tram zone, realizing we were on our way to Union Square. The cab pulled to a stop on Geary Street, and unlike at the park, Spencer got out gracefully, extending her hand towards me as I slid out after her. She refused to let me pay the cab driver, so I made a point of it to take her for lunch at a place of her choice.

I wasn't exactly sure why we came to shopping central, but I still trusted the blonde's plans – it had been the best day of my life so far, and it wasn't even noon yet.

"There's just a couple of places here I want to take you, but if you see any place you want to pop in, tell me, okay?" Spencer requested, grabbing my hand again.

Though I loved the fact that we were holding hands, it was slightly confusing – I struggled to read Spencer, her excitement and vibrant mood about this day making it impossible to figure out what was going on in that beautiful head of hers.

I shrugged the thought away and chose to enjoy whatever crossed out paths next.

It turned out to be a small bookstore.

I found my mind drifting back to that terrible day in New York, when I had to try and kill time before fleeing the city I seemed to commit so many crimes in. I swallowed hard, forcing myself to push the nauseating thoughts away, and finally focused on my time in that book store. I had browsed so many sections, trying to figure out if anything interesting would perhaps jump out at me.

"I'm just heading over to the animal section, do you want to browse a bit?" Spencer asked, pulling me from my thoughts.

I couldn't decide if she'd done this on purpose or if it was just a coincidence that Spencer really wanted to check something out in a book store. I didn't know enough about her to know if she even liked books, or animals to begin with.

"Sure, I'm just going to look around," I assured her, smiling as she let go of my hand. I missed her touch at once, but chastised myself for being so needy. When Spencer was satisfied that I could be left on my own for a couple of minutes, I found myself drawn towards the music section. The drumming of that morning was still fresh in my mind, my body still tingling from the remarkable experience. Maybe I'd find something there to trigger some memories or at least provide me with some insight towards the pull I felt while beating on those drums.

A soft gasp left my lips the moment my fingers traced over pages of a book detailing instruments of the current century. I was staring down at a picture of an acoustic guitar, and like the drums, the mere picture of the guitar lured me in.

I closed my eyes, pushing thoughts and questions aside, trying to fill my head with as much blank space as possible, hoping for some miracle in the form of memories.

But it never came, everything just remained… _blank_.

I was disappointed, but still intrigued. _Curious_. Without giving it a second thought, I clutched the book tightly to my chest, deciding to make an impulsive purchase. There had to be more to it, I wouldn't be experiencing these weird feelings otherwise.

With the book in one hand, I browsed a little bit more until I felt eyes on me. I turned to find Spencer leaning against a shelf, smiling softly as she watched me. I decided that she had definitely planned this, and I felt myself falling even more for her.

"Find anything you like?" Spencer finally asked, pushing herself up and making her way over to me.

I held up the book of instruments for her to see, and that excited sparkle was back in her eyes as she glanced up from the book to me.

"Are you going to take it?"

The tone in her voice was suspicious – I was sure if I said _no_ , she was going to buy it behind my back.

She had already been so generous, so I found myself eyeing the book she had clutched in her own hands. "Are you going to take that?"

Spencer blushed and held up the book for me to see. _The Dogs of Babel_ by Carolyn Parkhurst. I've never heard of it and laughed as I read the name out loud. I wasn't sure if it was a novel or something educational about dogs. Before I had a chance to ask, Spencer mumbled that she loved animals.

Her behavior was somewhat off, compared to the excitement she emanated just minutes ago, my questioning about her book seemed to upset her. Which in turn, upset me. "Let me get it for you," I offered, not only to make up for making her feel bad, or whatever was going on, but also because she'd been paying for everything up to now, and the least I could do was buy her a book she wanted.

But Spencer refused. "No, it's okay, don't worry, I've got it." She forced a smile, and the notion stung incredibly.

I felt like a complete jerk.

The feeling reminded me of the dreams I've been having about the faceless girl, whom I also seemed to treat like shit. I wondered if it wasn't maybe some kind of premonition.

My good mood was ruined, my heart aching painfully as I watched Spencer pay for her book and ask them to wrap it for her.

I paid for my own book and sighed, wishing I knew how to make things up to her.

* * *

We walked in awkward silence for a few minutes, until I spotted a music store, and my heart started racing again, reminding me of the overwhelming feelings I had felt when I saw the picture of that guitar. My feet guided me towards the door before I even had a chance to check with Spencer if it was okay that we went inside.

But the blonde had already anticipated my moves, and was right beside me, reaching hesitantly for my hand as she lead me inside.

Spencer must have seen me look at the pictures of the guitars, because that's exactly where she took me to.

I was mesmerized by the instruments surrounding me, and completely taken as we stopped in a section containing an impressive selection of different acoustic guitars. I felt a supportive squeeze on my hand, and for the second time my heart ached painfully, knowing that I had hurt this beautiful, intuitive girl, who, I was starting to figure out, was trying to help me remember who I was before I'd lost my memory.

Spencer let go of my hand and handed me a random guitar, neither of us knew enough to make an informed decision which shape and make would be best. It didn't really matter – I sat down on a little stool and took the instrument from her, and as if it was recalled from muscle memory, my left hand immediately gripped the neck while my right hand settled over the sound hole. It felt so natural and _familiar_ , and as I looked up at Spencer with tears in my eyes, I had to fight hard against the urge to just _cry._

Spencer encouraged me to try and strum something, and I did, my left hand instantly pressing down on the strings to form a G-major chord.

It was all too overwhelming.

A flashback so quick but so _real_ hit me; I knew I'd definitely done this before. I squeezed my eyes shut, once again trying to blank out my mind, hoping that a proper picture of me playing guitar could appear.

I could feel tears wetting my cheeks as another faceless girl, possibly the same one from my dreams, appeared in front of me. We were sitting on a bed in an unfamiliar room, I held a guitar in my lap, the body resting on my legs while my left hand held the neck, my free hand clutching a pencil. We were sharing details, of what I wasn't sure. I couldn't see her face, I couldn't hear her voice. All I could remember is how safe she made me feel.

In that very moment, when a soft hand gently traced my cheek, wiping away the tears, Spencer made me feel the same way.

My eyes shot open at the realization, and I regretted it instantly as Spencer pulled away from me, as if she was unsure about having touched me. The tears were still flowing freely, and I grabbed towards her hand, clutching it tightly as I whispered a strained _thank you_.

I knew she was confused and didn't understand what had just happened, but I could see in her eyes that she was trying hard to hold back her own tears.

Our emotional moment was interrupted by a young salesman clearing his throat. "Can I help you ladies with anything?"

I quickly wiped away my tears before facing him. "No, uhm, we're good." I stood up and carefully replaced the guitar on its stand, and urged Spencer to follow me as I tried to step away.

"Don't you want it?" Spencer asked softly.

As much as I did, it scared me equally. "No, not now."

She didn't press any further, and we made our way out of the shop quietly.

* * *

The rest of our day improved substantially when we left Union Square and headed over to Fisherman's Wharf using the Powell/Hyde cable car. That itself was an adventure for me, I'd never been on one and experiencing it with Spencer meant a lot to me.

We silently agreed that we'd push aside the heavy feelings for another day, and grabbing onto each other's hands, it was easy to fall back into the excitement of the day.

I was still overwhelmed by what I experienced back at the music store, but tried my best not to think about it. I was also still wary about the whole book-store incident.

The activities at Fisherman's Wharf afforded my busy thoughts a break, and I found it easy to become lost in Spencer's world. She was overly excited when I agreed to go to the Aquarium with her, and that was where I finally started learning about her.

I was taken aback – _stunned into silence_ , really – while listening to a plethora of information about marine life spilling from Spencer's lips as we skipped along hundreds of water-filled tanks. I had never seen so many fish in my life – not that I could remember, anyway – and was grateful, once again, that I got the opportunity to experience something this.

By the time we sluggishly planted ourselves back on familiar sand, waiting for the last rays of the sun to disappear over the horizon back in the Bay Area, my head was exploding with questions, and my heart exploding with adoration and a feeling I was pretty sure resembled _love_ , towards Spencer.

I looked to where our hands were joined tightly together, and gave a slight squeeze to get her attention.

She turned to me with a smile, and I couldn't help myself. I impulsively leaned towards her, planting a chaste kiss on her lips. They were soft and tasted like cherry-flavored ice cream; the only thing I had managed to buy her today.

When Spencer didn't pull back, I leaned in again, this time ghosting my lips over hers until she kissed me first.

My eyes closed, the world around me disappeared, and all I could register was the same feeling I had back at the music store; _I felt safe_.

* * *

 **Thirty-three – Smashing Pumpkins**


	34. Down

**A/N: I'm incredibly sorry for the long delay! So many things have been happening, some good, some terrible, but life goes on, and for those fortunate to read, and those fortunate to write and read… well here's the continuation of the fic I promised not to abandon, and I still stand by that promise!**

 **Thank you to everybody who continuously support this story even though updates have been few and far between! I'm posting 3 chapters so be sure to read them all ;)**

* * *

 **GirlsOnly – CH32 : Thank you for the review! I do not intend to give away any information especially not in the comments, but sometimes… sigh… I just can't help myself ;) I know what you mean about the flat emotions, sometimes it's difficult for me, and it's frustrating because I've got plenty of emotion to put down on paper, and when** ** _not_** **meant to, I do it well, but when it counts, it just doesn't work out all the time. Anyway, I hope the next couple of chapters will bring some more insight into Ashley and Spencer's growing relationship, it's not nearly as close to where it's supposed to be but there's some stuff to happen first – which you'll soon find out! Thank you for reading and reviewing!**

 **GirlsOnly – CH33 : Spencer's character will unfold a little bit more, I'm glad you liked the chapter and all the sweetness that came with it ;) Keep on reading for more!**

 **TheDWall – CH33 : The next chapter will probably disappoint you, but keep on reading because some truths will be uncovered – or close to anyway! A lot of the mystery is on its way of being revealed, but not without some drama, so hold on! Thank you for reading and reviewing!**

 **Angela78 – CH33 : Well it seems CH33 was enjoyable ;) There will be more, I promise! Thank you for reading and reviewing!**

* * *

 **Ashley**

 **Down**

When Spencer pulled back shortly after leaning in to kiss me, I frowned, and observing her sudden withdrawn behavior, I knew something was wrong. I immediately thought about the bookstore incident and wondered if she was possibly upset with me.

"What's wrong?"

I watched her cover her eyes with her hands, surprised to see tears already making its way down her jaw. That was a _lot_ of tears.

"I'm so sorry… I just… I can't. It's too soon," she hiccuped through the tears.

I wished there was a manual for people like me, who were cold-blooded killers, who didn't know how to deal with people with feelings, to read up and learn how to be prepared for something like this. Natural instincts told me to hold her or give her some reassurance that I was here for her, even if she wasn't able to talk about what was bothering her.

But being me, I wanted to know what was going on. I felt insecure after the emotional day we've had and I didn't know if my conscience could handle another person being pissed off with me. Especially not Spencer, and not after everything she's done for me.

So I unzipped my hoodie, draped it over her bare shoulders, and with the action I scooted closer to wrap my arm around her. "Hey, it's okay," I soothed softly, despite my own confusion at why kissing me was too soon for her.

Spencer leaned into me and cried even harder, her body shaking as she sobbed uncontrollably and kept rambling broken apologies at the same time.

When she was finally cried out and the sobbing subsided, Spencer pulled away shyly, wiping furiously at her red, puffy eyes. She took a couple of deep breaths, and without facing me, she spoke the words that made my heart break for her.

"I lost my girlfriend of three years about a year ago. She was killed, up until today I still don't know what exactly happened. The night before we had a huge fight, so we didn't see each other… I never got to tell her how sorry I was."

I felt a lump form in my throat, trying to imagine the sadness this girl was feeling. I couldn't believe all this time, with the exception of the first day we met, that she had been carrying such heartache with her. It made me feel selfish about the perfect day she had planned for me, while she was hurting so much. And for someone who was a killer and didn't know how to process information like this, I was unable to come up with something appropriate to say to her. I felt like such an idiot.

Spencer took my silence as a cue to continue, and I was secretly grateful for that.

"Today… it wasn't about me, I really planned everything to help you. I know we're both struggling with our own issues right now and I thought if I could help you it would make me feel better too. And it _did_ , it's just…"

All I could really do was pull her close to me again, rubbing her arms through the thick fabric of the hoodie. I felt like I wouldn't know what consoling was if it bit me in the ass.

"I'm so sorry for ruining everything…" she choked up, the tears running freely again.

It hurt me, _physically_ _hurt_ me, to see Spencer like this. I held her tightly against me, desperately seeking words that would make her feel better. But not even soft _okays_ and _everything-will-be-okays_ was enough to stop her flood of tears.

I took a deep breath and hesitantly reached to turn and cup her face so I could look into her sad, blue eyes. "Spencer, you didn't ruin anything. You gave me the best day of my life, the best that I could and ever would remember - and I'm serious about that. You could never ruin anything. I'm sorry that you've been going through so much pain and I'm sorry that you lost someone so close to you." I paused for a second, hopeful that her tears would stop. "And I'm glad you told me – I can't even _begin_ to imagine…" I could. _I_ was someone who caused pain like this to loved ones. I immediately thought about Boz's wife, Tracy, and how torn she was when I met up with her. And then about Logan Jones – his wife, and kids, and how devastated they must have been.

This was definitely not the easiest thing for me to deal with. Of all the demons I constantly had to fight, the last thing I was equipped for was to help Spencer through the loss of a loved one.

I didn't know if maybe somehow it would help me, perhaps deal with my own shit that I only brought upon myself, but I knew that I _wanted_ to be the one to help Spencer. I wanted to be the one to put a smile back on her face. _I_ wanted to be the one to make her forget that terrible pain.

"I can't imagine what you're going through right now, but I'm here for you. Even if you just want to continue to sit on the beach in silence, I don't mind – just know that I'm here, okay?" I wiped at her eyes with my thumbs until the dampness had disappeared. My hands and her cheeks were still wet, so I pulled the sleeve of the hoodie over her hand and gently made her wipe her face.

"I'm sorry, I don't have any tissues," I chuckled as Spencer apologized about the hoodie. "But the jacket will survive."

We sat in comfortable silence for a while until it was completely dark, and I realized it was best that we started heading home. I didn't want a patrol dog to scare Spencer away again, or worse, have something happen to her. I gently pulled her up with me and helped her into the hoodie, zipping it up carefully.

"Are you going to be okay? Do you want me to stay with you or is there someone I can call for you?"

Spencer shook her head and offered a small smile. "I'm okay, thank you Ashley." She grabbed her bag and slung it over her shoulder.

I wasn't really convinced, but trusted that she would speak up if she needed anything. We lazily walked back to the main road, and I contemplated for a second to take her to my condo with me.

But Spencer had already decided what she needed to do. Unzipping the hoodie to hand it back, she put on a brave face and was ready to say good-bye for the night.

"Keep it on. That way you'll know that I'm constantly with you, okay?" I didn't care if it sounded soppy – I just wanted her to feel better.

"Thank you," Spencer blushed. Her eyes lit up for a second as she remembered something, and for a moment I thought that she would start crying again, but Spencer reached into her backpack and pulled out the wrapped book that she had bought at the bookstore.

Holding it out towards me in open palms, I was utterly confused.

"This was part of the surprise. I've already read it, and thought it might cheer you up a little too. You know I'm not too fond of dogs, but uhm… the story is really something else." She had a hopeful look on her face until I reached out and took the gift from her.

I was speechless. "Spencer, I don't know what to say… I uh, thank you. You have no idea what this, and today means to me."

She stepped closer and embraced me in a quick hug. "I think I have a bit of an idea. I'll see you tomorrow?"

The thought of spending another day with her brought a smile to my face. I returned the hug and pulled back, staring into her eyes for a moment longer than necessary. "I'll see you tomorrow."

* * *

I had no idea whether I was a fan of reading, but wanting to impress Spencer, and take her mind off of things and give us something nice to talk about, I decided to delve into the book and see what it was all about.

I made myself comfortable in my bed, my ears perked up for a moment to establish if my ghosts were home, but when I was met with complete silence, I let out a relieved breath, pulled the covers up over my legs, and opened the book on the first page.

I was caught off guard to find a short note scribbled right beneath the title, and felt my eyes tear up at the heartwarming words.

 _'Sometimes what you are looking for, comes when you're not looking at all.'_

 _You will find yourself again, and I will be with you every step of the way. Spencer._

With the kind words and her beautiful face at the forefront of my mind, I smiled and turned the page, interested to learn a little bit more about how Spencer saw the world…

* * *

A sob escaped me unwillingly, and before I could even put a stop to it a flood of tears streaked my cheeks. I was conflicted between heartache and feeling like the most inexorable person on the entire planet. A quick glance at my alarm clock confirmed it was already 5AM – I had stayed up all night to finish the book Spencer had given me.

And now I wasn't so sure if it was a good idea to read it – finish it – and feeling so torn, to show up for Spencer in a couple of hours to help her through her own heartbreak. But I couldn't _not_ show up, I'd never forgive myself.

I let the tears fall, letting my thoughts tumble, thinking about the story how the character's wife got killed, and the only witness was their dog. So the guy went on this journey to try and make his dog learn to talk so he could get behind the truth of what had happened.

It reminded me so much of Spencer, of how she said her girlfriend got killed and a year later she still didn't know what had happened. So not only did she have to deal with the heartache, she also never got the closure she needed.

It explained so much about the sadness I saw in her eyes the first time we met. It explained why she was patient with me, content with letting things just play out on its own instead of forcing conversation. In a way, she understood what it felt like to need someone but not yet able to talk about things. It felt like this book had just connected so many dots for me to get to know her a little without asking the questions.

It also tore me apart completely, reminding me of my own sins, how I was a person who caused this kind of pain for people. I could imagine it would take a while before authorities could even come up with any motive behind Logan Jones' death. I wondered what they had told his wife and kids. At least Tracy knew why Boz died.

Sean's death remained a mystery to the world, while I knew it was no accident. He wasn't hit by a stray bullet from the bank robbers. They didn't even own sniper rifles.

Sasha's death was more obvious; people knew what an asshole Dan Miller was. It didn't mean Sasha had to die for his sins. His wife must hate him. And probably me.

Kelly was something else. She had voluntary gotten herself involved with the very same politicians that Sean and Boz had been taking on. And while she was focusing on her growing empire, someone else had been focusing on her.

Aiden was a complete different story. No-one would miss him, the same way no-one would miss me when I was gone. But once upon a time, he did mean something to someone. He was still someone's son. There had to be people in his past life that were looking for him, wondering in the quiet of the night where he was, or what had happened to him.

And then there was Madison. And possibly Clay Carlin. And who knows how many others.

I felt queasy knowing I had all these people's blood on my hands. And it wasn't only about them, it was their families and friends, what they were going through, how they were coping with the loss of someone they loved.

The sobs became painful as I wondered if there was even someone out there feeling this way about me. And did I even deserve it? They certainly didn't deserve the pain and suffering, not while knowing what a horrible person I really was, or had become.

It was all so frustrating, not remembering anything, not knowing _why_. Why had this happened to me? Why was I chosen to have my childhood and life wiped out to become a heartless assassin? Or did I choose to do it? And why would I ever allow something like this to happen to me? Why, if I was feeling so shattered, why did I willingly kill people? And for how long had it been going on – how long did I _not_ feel anything, how many people have I killed before the seven I started caring about?

I had no recollection about rigorous training to become such a monster, yet I was able to do things that scared me.

 _Why?_

My chest felt tight, and I felt utterly _alone_. I wanted someone like Spencer to cry over me too, to wonder what had happened, to have _felt_ something. But how could I even let someone like Spencer, who was suffering so much, come close to me, knowing what I did?

She would run the moment she found out, and I wouldn't blame her. She'd never forgive me if she ever had to find out I killed people, while her own girlfriend got killed and she didn't know how or why.

I hadn't realized a full hour had passed since I stopped reading. The clock hit 6AM and the alarm blared loudly through the quiet house.

I wondered where the ghosts were. They had only disappeared once before – when I needed time after returning from New York to get the information about Boz and Logan Jones. Soon after, Kelly had made her appearance.

I really hoped they weren't going to return with another ghost.

* * *

Spencer never showed up, and by the time the sun started setting, I was going out of my mind with worry. Part of me was relieved that she wasn't here to witness me spontaneously bursting out in tears a couple of times, but I'd rather have suffered through that, and have her here with me, knowing she was safe.

But she wasn't, and I didn't know if she was okay.

I knew I shouldn't beat myself up about it, but I chastised myself for not forcing her to come to my place last night, especially knowing the ghosts weren't even there.

I finally pushed myself off the cooling sand, trying to figure out which direction she normally headed when we split up. Maybe I could just take a stroll down the street and try pinpoint which condo she lived in. Maybe, just maybe, I'd spot her outside or through a large window.

So I did just that, like a stalker in the night, walked up and down the streets close to the beach, hoping, praying, that Spencer was safe in one of those apartments somewhere.

* * *

It took another two days of walking around the neighborhoods endlessly, when I finally decided to head back to the beach in the hope that the blonde would miraculously show up there. Every time I was in the main road I kept my eyes glued to the people on the beach, my eyes scanning hair and eyes and figures, my heart racing occasionally when I thought I _may_ have spotted Spencer.

This time, however, when I walked purposefully to the spot we normally occupied, I could make out a silhouette against the blinding sunset, and my pulse picked up, knowing it was the person I was looking for.

My pace turned to a quick jog, and then a sprint as I raced toward Spencer. She was sitting with her back towards me, facing the ocean and sunset, and had no idea there was a madwoman running towards her.

Had I not been so worried about her this would have been funny. I would have playfully tackled her into the sand and hugged her.

But given the circumstances, I definitely didn't want to scare her.

I stopped dead in my tracks, my body frozen, my heart coming to a standstill, when I was right behind her, close enough to see that she was holding an old acoustic guitar in her lap.

"I'm sorry I disappeared." She spoke without turning around, her voice scratchy and filled with emotion.

Wary about her intentions but relieved about her being safe, I carefully took off my shoes and sat down right next to Spencer. I was scared for her, and scared for me, but what I really wanted to know was whether she was okay. "I was really worried about you," I said softly, not wanting to sound accusing.

"You and me both," she chuckled lightly. She was silent for a moment, her gaze fixed on the ocean.

I took the liberty to take in her features, focusing on her face; her eyes were clear but sad, she had a pensive frown on her forehead, her bottom lip caught between teeth as she concentrated hard – her thoughts probably racing as much as my own.

My eyes fell from her face and I found myself staring at the guitar resting in her lap. It looked worn; the body covered with faded decals of band logos, and some signatures scribbled over everything with what must have been a Sharpie. Even _that_ was faded, where the signatures went over the decals onto the wood, it had been smeared off in some places. I inspected the names carefully, trying to figure out if I could recognize any, but my mind was blank. I literally only knew a handful of people.

I wondered for a fleeting second why Spencer had this guitar with her. Did she play? Was she going to play a song for me? Or had she paid too close attention back at that music store?

"It's for you," she croaked out hesitantly, startling me.

I looked up and found her eyes meeting mine, not having realized she was staring at me. A slight bit of relief washed over me, grateful that she wasn't able to read minds or something.

But that simple statement, the heartfelt gesture of running out to go and find a guitar, wasn't so easy for me to accept. Instead of feeling touched, I felt panicked, and scared. "I'm not ready, Spencer," I reminded her. It didn't come out as calm as I had thought. My voice had an edge to it and I could see in her eyes that she was confused.

I was too, but the panic was still clutching at my heart as I revisited the images that went through my mind as I held that guitar in the store. The feelings were intense – too intense, and I wasn't ready to let myself feel like that – I wasn't sure if I would ever be ready. I didn't _deserve_ to feel safe and loved. And as much as I wanted to find out who the girl in my dreams and in that memory was, I was scared now.

Scared that she felt the same way Spencer felt about her dead girlfriend, the same way Tracy felt about Boz…

And I didn't deserve it, not one bit.

"Why did you get this?" I tapped lightly on the wood, trying to divert my thoughts away from my self-pity.

Spencer smiled sadly, her eyes sparkling with tears despite the hope I could see on her face. "It's just… when you smile and when it looks like you're at the brink of remembering something, it makes me feel… I don't know. You make me feel… _alive_. For the first time in a very long time."

* * *

 **Down – Jason Walker**


	35. Salvation

**Ashley**

 **Salvation**

I was somewhat torn between the realization that Spencer and I were probably only destined to be friends – _great_ _friends_ – and the relief that she wouldn't ever end up getting hurt when she found out months, perhaps even years, into a relationship, that I used to be a ruthless killer.

It was starting to get increasingly difficult not to fall for her, however. As the days slowly rolled by, I found myself getting more comfortable around, and more attached to the blonde. Our days of just sitting on the beach seemed to be something of the past, as we found ourselves exploring every inch of what San Francisco had to offer.

It was exhausting at first, since neither of us owned a car, but that was part of the fun. I kept fit – we both did – by walking most of the time, making use of local transport only when really necessary. Okay, mostly at the end of every day, when we were just too tired to make our way back to The Bay Area, or frighteningly as my mind processed it lately… _home_. And every time, as the sun set over the horizon, and we hugged goodbye on the beach, I felt my heart ache for her touch just a little bit more. For her smile to accompany me a little further, and her bright blue eyes to light up every dark crevice inside my soul just a little bit longer.

But like every other day, I let her go off into the sunset, convincing myself it was better for both of us. I was protecting her that way. If she didn't get too close to me, if she didn't find out what kind of monster I really was, that naïve belief she had that the world could still be saved, would forever sparkle in her eyes. And selfishly, I'd fallen in love with that sparkle. I'd fallen in love with her strength, her perseverance despite the closure of her girlfriend's death she still sought after, everything about her, really.

And every day, every moment spent with Spencer, despite hiding my deepening feelings from her, somehow started healing me from the inside. The more time we spent together and out of the house, the less I saw of my ghosts. Though obvious – and thankful – that they wouldn't follow me around in public, I came home some nights to find them gone altogether. It was unsettling it first, but once I got used to it, I was starting to believe that I had found my own cure against them.

Spencer.

It didn't make sense, but I wanted to believe it _so_ badly that I skipped my next appointment with doctor Carlin, not even phoning in to lie about why I wouldn't make it. Though I came to hate the thought of self-medicating, since my little stint with the painkillers, I did stock up _and_ took some over the counter nausea tablets, and painkillers – _just_ for in case.

But nothing had changed over the past week as I got up from a deep, dreamless sleep; ready for another fun, careless day with Spencer, and found that my ghosts had made themselves scarce.

"You're awfully happy for someone who should be worried about their missing ghosts."

Right. Except for one.

I let out a frustrated sigh as I entered the kitchen, watching Kelly furiously rearranging the month-old wilted flowers, still on the island counter. It was seriously time for me to clean up a little. Because if there was one thing I was ready for, it was to invite Spencer over for dinner. I was a terrible cook, but I was willing to try anything just to impress the blonde.

I opened the fridge and scanned the contents, making a mental note of things I had to get when I went grocery shopping.

"Ignoring us isn't the wisest choice here, Ashley."

I spun on my heel, looking at Kelly incredulously. "Ignoring you?" I laughed. "You don't _exist_."

I was expecting the searing pain in my temples and onset of nausea. But I was prepared.

The attack on my system was sudden, but weak in comparison to previous times when I refused to acknowledge the existence of my ghosts. I felt the pain starting in my forehead, a dull aching that quickly spread through my skull. Bile rose up in my throat but I was able to hold everything in, smirking as Kelly glared at me, looking confused at my ability to withstand the punishment or whatever it was when I said they weren't _real_.

She squinted her eyes, calculating her next move carefully.

I wasn't sure if she'd figured out what I had done, but I was more than ready for whatever they wanted to throw my way.

Kelly finally huffed and turned her attention back to the wilted flowers, not at all fazed that I had just beaten them once again. "Can you at least get me something fresh? If you go to one of my shops they can get you white daisies - they're very nice. And your place is starting to smell."

I felt a sting as I listened to Kelly talk about flowers. As annoying as she was, she was still… _dead_. A _would-be_ fiancé was probably still mourning her death, the same way family and friends were. And probably her staff too. I didn't know if I would be able to buy flowers from one of _her_ shops, it was way too weird, but I was considering doing this small thing for her to keep her happy.

And to impress Spencer. All Kelly's arrangements turned into works of art despite the wilted flowers.

"Sure," I sighed aloofly, not wanting Kelly to realize that I was inadvertently giving in to her demands.

My attention was back to the lack of contents in my fridge, I didn't really care to make any more small talk or entertain my ghosts at all. Though I was very curious where the rest of the ghosts had opted to waste away their days, I wasn't going to ask. The longer they stayed away, the less I had to worry about the long-term effects of avoiding my visits with Doctor Carlin.

Who needed doctors and therapists when you had Spencer in your life?

* * *

"Okay, favorite color, favorite food, favorite animal, and… hmm… favorite destination. Go."

I laughed as Spencer started with her twenty questions, always coming up with random stuff. I wasn't sure whether she was trying to get me to remember, or trying to make _new_ memories, but either way, I loved when she did this even though I protested with eye-rolls and sarcastic jabs.

I stared up at the movement of the clouds, slightly drunken by the slow rotation of the merry-go-round we'd stumbled upon in a park not too far from The Bay Area. I was hyper aware of Spencer's head close to mine in the center, lying flat on our backs, her feet dangling off the sides and occasionally kicking onto the ground to keep us spinning around and around. We were spending a lot of time in parks lately; sometimes just strolling along winding pathways, other times feeding ducks, and on sunny days like today, we just let our inner child take over and enjoyed whatever the parks had to offer.

While it was relaxing and freeing, I couldn't help but wonder with longing if I had done this as a child. Whether I had friends who had gone to parks with me, whether I had even gone to parks at all.

Spencer made it all seem so easy, as if reliving a happy childhood was supposed to be normal and ingrained into your memory next to breathing. There were moments when she forgot that I had no recollection of my past, including the knowledge how to do simple things such as sit in a swing, or balance on a seesaw. Not that it was difficult to grasp, given my mysterious extensive military training, but at first sight I had no idea what the jungle gyms even were.

But the pretty blonde was intuitive, and soon caught on that my memory problems ran deeper than either of us could ever grasp.

And that's why, for the past two days, we found ourselves building silly memories that didn't previously exist, and it was childlike and heartwarming and fun, especially with Spencer. She could easily have been that childhood best friend I could have fallen for. And probably never told her how I felt about her and watched painfully as she walked down the aisle with someone else.

It was a disturbing thought; for a fleeting second it almost felt _real_ , but as usual, the intuitive blonde was there to catch me in my fall.

"Ash? Where did you go?"

My eyes focused on her, and it took a second to realize that Spencer had moved, perched up on one elbow, blocking my view of the clouds as she stared down at me with a mixture of concern and anticipation.

She treaded lightly, as if testing the water. "Did you… did you remember something?"

I closed my eyes and remembered the faceless girl of my dreams, the faceless girl I saw that day in the music store. Did I lose the girl of my dreams in my previous life to someone else? Is that why I decided to have my memory wiped and became a coldhearted killer instead?

The thought was daunting, and it hurt more than I realized.

I let out a sigh and was caught off guard when I opened my eyes again, staring right into the nervous but incredibly beautiful eyes of the girl who'd been sticking band-aids all over my broken soul lately.

I swallowed away the lump in my throat caused by possible memories, and smiled, realizing I had some answers for her. "Blue." It was also a deviation tactic, and I hoped she wouldn't push.

Spencer frowned, obviously confused, but a smile soon formed on her lips at the realization that I was finally giving in to her incessant twenty questions.

"Blueberry pancakes, fish, and for now, San Francisco would have to do."

It was new favorites, but it was something I didn't have before. Before Spencer, I didn't have _anything_. The ghosts didn't count.

Her smile was beautiful and contagious, and she relaxed with a chuckle, but she didn't lie back down as I thought she would.

Instead, her gaze remained on me, and I felt butterflies in all the wrong places. Because we were just friends, right?

 _Right?_

"Your nose crinkles when you smile like that," she observed quietly. She was still smiling but her expression had changed from happy to something else, something I couldn't really place.

A strand of hair fell from her tied back hair into her face, and without thinking, I reached up and gently tucked it behind her ear. When the corners of her mouth lifted the slightest bit more, I kept my hand in place, my heart hammering hard against my chest as I contemplated my next move.

 _We're just friends_.

But she looked at me differently, there was something in her eyes, something that wasn't there when she said she wasn't ready. Something that wasn't there right before she made the comment about my smile.

I swallowed hard, fighting against my self-deprecating demons that I would just end up hurting her, but the way Spencer was looking at me was all it took for me to lower my hand from her ear to gently cup her cheek. I held my breath as I did so, ready for the rejection, but it never came.

Spencer leaned into my touch and closed her eyes, releasing a soft sigh. "I think I really like you, Ashley," she whispered, almost as if I wasn't supposed to hear it.

But I did, and my racing heart grabbed for the emergency brake, stopping abruptly at Spencer's declaration. Just the mere thought that there was any possibility, any possibility _at all_ , sent me into a blind panic. I really liked Spencer too, much more than I would ever admit, and despite how much I wanted her to like me back the same way, it suddenly scared me.

I was a killer. I was a terrible person. I didn't deserve someone like Spencer liking me. I was terrified of hurting her.

But when she opened her eyes again – probably because I'd turned mute – those beautiful eyes turned me to mush and I couldn't help but give her another nose-crinkling smile, and confirmation that I really liked her too.

We chuckled at the irony of our childish declarations on a merry-go-round in the park of all places, but I knew I'd remember and cherish this day forever.

"Would you like to come over for dinner at my place sometime? I'm a terrible cook but I promise to try and put something nice together. And then you can twenty-question me to your heart's content." I had to keep the mood light in fear of bursting out in joyful tears that there was someone on this planet who could actually like me. Well, this version of me.

Spencer's smile grew even wider and she nodded against my hand. "I'd love to."

I felt the butterflies again, and for the first time since I became aware of just _being_ , I felt happy. Extremely happy.

* * *

I was a nervous wreck.

All the happiness I'd felt two days ago had disappeared, and I had turned into a moody, dangerous, _wreck_.

Kelly was the only ghost who stuck around and disappeared when the doorbell rang, much to my annoyance but also relief, I was secretly thankful that she had actually taken the time and made something of the fresh daisies I'd gotten her.

Though I didn't reveal that I'd be bringing home a date, Kelly must have sensed by the way I was cleaning and cooking and cleaning even more.

Every recipe I've tried so far had turned into a disaster, and after a full day of trying my hand at the stove, I decided to get something at a restaurant and throw away the containers.

But Spencer was far too observant for my liking. She chuckled the moment I opened the front door, admitting that she knew we were having Jimmy's for dinner, and that I should toss aside the apron because it looked better off me.

I was crestfallen for a second, but when she stepped inside and leaned forward to place a chaste kiss on my lips, her hands sneakily reaching behind my back to untie the apron, I literally _swooned_ , and forgot all about my terrible skills in the kitchen.

I had other skills to make up for that.

And I did. My hands reached to cup her face, thumbs on her cheeks while the rest of my fingers deftly massaged the back of her neck, and I returned her kiss with as much passion as I possibly could.

As wonderful as it felt, it was also strange, because I had never kissed anyone like that before.

When Spencer sighed and relaxed into me, all brewing thoughts of _too much, too soon_ left my mind and I kissed her even harder.

I wasn't sure how long we just stood there, connected like that, but when we finally came up for air my knees felt weak and the rest of me, well, giddy.

"Well, hello to you too," Spencer chuckled teasingly, her cheeks flushed after our little make-out session.

I had no idea what came over me, but it felt so right, so _normal_. I stepped back and smirked, taking Spencer's hand to lead her into my condo and give her a quick tour.

"It's nothing big, really. I just sleep here, basically," I explained, as if Spencer wasn't aware that I spent day in and day out with her.

She looked around in admiration, taking in the lounge area, open planned kitchen, and followed as I showed her where the guest bathroom was and then my bedroom. I had locked the study, just _in case_.

We were seated at the kitchen island nurturing some expensive red wine I'd grabbed while at the restaurant, when Spencer's eyes fell on Kelly's flower rings – or whatever that was. Her breath hitched and for a moment her face went pale, and I felt my heart drop.

"Where did you get this?" Spencer croaked out, looking up at me, her eyes tearing up as she gingerly touched the flowers.

My mind went blank. I had no idea what the meaning behind flowers were, but I had a suspicion that daisies probably meant something to Spencer. And possibly her late girlfriend.

The thought made me feel sick to the stomach.

"I uh…" I stared at the strange contraption Kelly had created, faltering over lies that wouldn't sound too far-fetched. "There's a florist shop nearby… something to do with chains or something?"

It wasn't that I _didn't_ pay attention – I just couldn't get myself to think about it as I went into the very place where I cold-heartedly shot Kelly. I only went there because she insisted she wanted the daisies from _her_ shop.

If I hadn't thought Spencer was already pale, she just lost another shade of color, and almost looked ghostly. I visibly flinched at the thought, and how devastating this night was turning out and it hadn't even really started yet.

"I'm sorry, Spence… I didn't – was this… I mean, the flowers … " The words stumbled out of me, and I felt this incredible sadness wash over me as I watched the girl in front of me come undone.

Of course the flowers meant something.

Spencer shook her head, as if trying to shake away the memories, but it was way too late. The tears were already running, the pain already dug up from deep down where she'd tried to bury it. And her girlfriend.

"I'm sorry, Ash, it's just… these are daisy-chains. It was just a thing… and it just, I wasn't ready," Spencer apologized, wiping furiously at the tears.

I felt terrible for so many reasons. First of all, obviously, for having bought these stupid flowers Kelly insisted I get, and for feeling slightly jealous that Spencer still held so much sadness and so many memories of her dead girlfriend.

I almost choked up at my selfishness, and stepped around the counter to wrap her up in a tight hug to hide my narcissistic emotions. It made me feel only worse when Spencer clung tightly to me, her body shaking as she sobbed through the pain.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, Spence," I whispered against her neck, my hand rubbing soothing circles into her back.

We stayed like that for a long time, and when her sobs finally subsided, I pulled back and wiped the excess tears from Spencer's cheeks with my thumbs. "Can I get you anything? A strong JD?"

It pulled a chuckle from her, but Spencer nodded, and I felt relieved, if only for a second, because at least there was one thing I could do right, one thing I could do to cheer her up just a little.

I pushed the wine glasses aside and placed two tumblers on the counter, filling it with ice and Jack Daniels without much effort. I needed the strong drink as much as Spencer did.

We both swallowed the first round down within seconds.

I raised my brows, surprised that Spencer could hold her alcohol so well, and pointed towards the bottle, offering a second round.

It didn't take long for the second round to become a third, and a forth, and by the end of the bottle, Spencer and I were both seated on the floor in the lounge area, supported by a couch holding us up, in fact, that was the only support holding us up – because in this moment, we failed to do so for each other while deliberately asking each other painful twenty-questions.

I was vaguely aware of my shortcomings to be at least a good friend for Spencer, but it was soon forgotten when she held up her glass and asked for more.

I stumbled to the kitchen, not even sure why I had that bottle to start with, but surprisingly found another in the cupboard below the island counter. I cheered loudly, unaware of my drunken state, and sauntered back happily so we could drown our sorrows even further.

But by the time my back hit the couch, keeping me from falling over, Spencer was passed out, her legs stretched out in front of her, one hand on the empty tumbler and the other slumped beside her, her head tilted back onto the couch. Her face was still pale but her cheeks were heavily flushed after all the alcohol, and I couldn't help the laugh that escaped me at how funny she looked. And sad, so incredibly sad.

It was a sobering thought, and I realized what a terrible person I really was. We went from kissing in the door to drinking ourselves into a stupor. We haven't even had dinner, and what was supposed to be a romantic get-to-know-each-other evening, had turned out into a drunk-fest. I scolded myself under my breath and contemplated for a moment what to do.

There was no way I'd let Spencer go home in this state – I'd feel too bad waking her anyway – and I couldn't exactly leave her the way she was. I cringed at the thought of the ghosts finding her tucked in on the sofa, so I was only left with one other option.

She was surprisingly light and had we been sober this would have been very romantic, carrying her to my room – to my _bed_.

My heart was hammering hard against my chest again as I gently laid her down, removed her shoes and pulled down her jeans, quickly replacing it with a pair of boxers from my drawer. It was mid- summer so I knew she wouldn't get cold, but I pulled the plush comforter up to her chin anyway.

The butterflies returned to my stomach as I stood back and took a moment to stare at Spencer, sleeping so peacefully, in my clothes, in my _bed_ , and it tugged at my heart, _hard_. It felt familiar, _safe_ , without the need for sex to get through the night, and I could see myself holding her while she slept, cuddling into the warmth her slim body offered. I imagined for a fleeting moment waking up with her hair splayed all over her face in the morning, her head tucked underneath my chin, an arm tossed loosely around my waist.

It felt bittersweet, and real, as if I'd been there before, experienced that before. The faceless girl of my dreams came to mind and suddenly I shared the sadness Spencer had felt all night at the loss of a loved one.

I sighed, trying to suppress the sadness, and left some water and painkillers on the nightstand before making my way to the lounge with a pillow and extra blanket.

Maybe one day…

* * *

 **Salvation – Gabrielle Aplin**


	36. Dance Again

**Madison**

 **Dance Again**

 _"Babe, I need your help."_

I smiled at the sound of his voice, a hot flush running through my body as I fleetingly allowed myself to imagine that masculine voice right next to me, whispering pleasantries into my ear.

And I knew these little replays in my head would soon become a reality, considering he sounded quite desperate. I knew he would repay me kindly in person very soon.

"I'm all ears, sexy," I purred, and in a swift move, had my cell phone plugged into its charger and changed the volume setting to _Speaker_. I didn't mind having phone sex with this hunk, anything was good coming from him.

There was a slight hesitation, and then a loud, heavy sigh on the other side of the line. It instantly cooled down my hormones, feeling like I'd been doused with a bucket of ice water.

 _"I'm sorry, Madison, I don't really have time for that right now. I need you for Ashley."_

The mention of the sexy brunette instantly had my attention, though at the back of my mind I was slightly disappointed. I didn't mind fucking the girl, but there were days when I needed more than that. I needed a guy. I needed…

"Aiden, what's going on?" I couldn't keep the irritation out of my voice, even if I tried.

 _"Can you just take care of her tonight? She'll probably be at your bar in half an hour."_

"Is she okay?"

 _"I need her to focus on her work, and right now, she's not. She's losing her touch."_

I smirked. If there was anything I could do for the brunette, it was make her forget about everything that was going on in that pretty head of hers, and make her my bitch. And in return, she'd do the same to me. We played rough like that, every single time.

"What do I get out of it?" It was greedy of me, I know. But I still craved some _man_ in my life. And Aiden definitely knew how to make _me_ forget about everything.

 _"We can hook up tomorrow, after you're done with her."_

"Deal."

 _"Oh, and there's one more thing I need you to do for me…"_

After he disconnected the call, I stared at my phone for a while, wondering why this guy could never stay on the line for longer than two minutes. He always seemed in a hurry, always had other things to do.

I sighed, pushing myself up from my bed, knowing I only had a couple of minutes to get ready and go down to the bar and wait for Ashley. I was lucky to have found the apartment available after a year of running the bar. It was overly convenient to be so close to work.

It was never my dream to own and run a bar, but things change when you hit the big city and reality hits you in the face. I'd still make it one day, though. My dreams of becoming a professional dancer wasn't _that_ far out of reach anymore – the profitable turnover at the bar ensured enough savings for the classes I'd been dying to take since I was ten years old. I was about two months away from making it big in the City of Angels.

* * *

When my eyes landed on her, I felt a pull in my stomach, the good kind of pull. Before Ashley, I'd only ever had one other girl-on-girl experience, and after the bitch turned all emotional on me, I knew females were just too much drama for me. I was enough of a diva as it was; I despised the competition women brought into my life.

But when this particular brunette showed up at my bar just two days after I first met Aiden, I knew he didn't lie when he mentioned he had a hot friend who wasn't looking for anything serious. And she wasn't – we had managed to keep it casual for _so_ long, I still didn't know anything about her, except for being able to read her body language.

And as she stepped through the door, her jaw set and eyes unfocused, it was evident that she needed some good release. I kept my eyes on her, taking in every inch of her tanned athletic body, turned on by the dark ripped jeans, black halter top, and smoky eyes to die for.

I was happy to offer my services and get _serviced_ in return. I had to give it to her, she was _good_. And hot as hell. Ashley was the type of girl mothers probably hated – too scared that she'd turn their precious little girls into puddles of mush and have them follow her around like love-sick puppies, all the while corrupting their innocent little lives. I could see it all so clearly on her bad persona attitude that she tried to keep up. Even when sauntering through the bar she looked like she was on a mission.

But I could see right through that – even if Aiden _hadn't_ phoned me, I'd know that something was up. It was all in her body language.

I grabbed a clean glass from underneath the bar and started filling it with ice and her favorite drink as I waited for her to make herself comfortable on a bar stool.

Our eyes met, and I offered a seductive smirk. "What's on your mind, babe?"

Of course, she wasn't going to share. I've known for a while that Ashley and Aiden were involved with something off the radar, and it didn't really bother me that she was lying about her profession. We had agreed to keep this thing casual, after all. She didn't even know that I knew Aiden. That I knew her _because_ of Aiden.

I watched her carefully as I absentmindedly poured her a whiskey, muscle memory doing the job for me. She really seemed distracted, and I almost felt sorry for her.

A sigh escaped her thin lips. "Just a busy week ahead. Grueling meetings and I'll probably be out photographing every day. I just don't like the subject."

"Aaaw, I'm sorry babe. Here," I offered a supportive pout and slid the glass of whiskey towards her, my eyes following as it moved smoothly over the worn wooden top until it stopped in her hand. This counter top had definitely seen better days. "It's on me."

She smiled gratefully and lifted the glass to her lips, taking a small sip. "Are you free later tonight?"

I couldn't help the predatory smile that appeared on my own face. If Ashley was the badass, bad-girl-your-mother-warned-you-about persona, then I was the person her type _learned_ from. I could feel my body temperature rising by just watching her drink her whiskey.

The feeling was mutual, it seemed, because her eyes clouded over as it raked over my sultry body.

"I'm actually off tonight – just came to check that Joe's got everything under control. We can leave after your drink, if you want."

She nodded, holding the glass against her lips to finish the last of the whiskey.

We were in for a busy night…

* * *

Whatever Aiden and Ashley were involved with _really_ had the brunette's mind occupied. I had tried every trick in the book, but despite several orgasms and a _lot_ of tiring positions, Ashley was still wide awake, and left me without an ounce of energy to go for another round.

I let out a heavy sigh and allowed my eye to catch the time on the digital alarm clock. We'd been at it for four hours. How was she _not_ tired? And how was I supposed to do what Aiden asked of me while she was overly alert? It was one thing I had learned about Ashley over the time that we had been hooking up – she _never_ let her guard down. The couple of times she fell asleep, it was always light and she was normally gone before I woke up the next morning.

I dared to glance at her, and after establishing that I could freely stare since her mind was someplace else and her eyes focused on the expensive hotel room's roof, I took the time to study her face. Her jaw was set, her lips in a tight line, and her brows furrowed. Something was really bothering the girl and for the first time, I wished that we were more than just fuck buddies. I didn't have a lot of friends in the city and I'd come to realize that Ashley didn't have any friends at all. Right now I would have allowed her to just unload on me, even if she was normally as closed up as a clam shell and didn't talk about her life at all.

I wasn't sure how much time had passed – it felt like hours – but when I found myself searching for the brunette's eyes, it was closed, and I could hear by her evened out breathing that she had fallen asleep.

I was sad to have to do this, but when it came down to decide between Ashley and Aiden, despite my earlier musings that I could be a friend to her, the guy had more to offer. _Obviously_.

It took a moment to gather enough guts, and finally, after what felt like another hour had passed, I carefully lifted the thin sheet covering our naked bodies and slipped off the bed. I was grateful for Ashley's choice in expensive hotel rooms – the carpet was soft and plush under my bare feet; it was _so_ warm that I didn't even care about my nakedness until I reached the door. In our haste to get undressed and busy, both Ashley and I had just dropped our belongings and clothes on the floor and headed right to bed.

I held my breath as I reached out for her messenger bag, my heart hammering loud in my ears. If Ashley had to catch me now… Well, it was the whole point – to _get_ caught – but I was scared of what her reaction would be. I strained my ears, trying hard to concentrate on her breathing through the noise of fear in my head.

It was completely dark in the room, forcing me to ruffle through my own clutch to find my cell phone and use the backlight to see what I was actually doing.

I grabbed for the messenger bag again and unzipped it, holding my breath all the while. My fingers trembled, one hand holding the phone, the other reaching for the manila folder Aiden had told me about.

The slightest change in Ashley's breathing pattern immediately had me alert. I stopped for a split second and knew then that she was awake. My body was covered in a cold sweat, and I prayed that she wasn't some kind of assassin or killer of sorts. Whatever Aiden wanted to have her scared of, I really hoped I wasn't getting involved with something crazy here.

I opened the folder, surprised to see a photograph of the mayor's daughter. The paperwork inside the file looked professional, details printed out neatly. I didn't care to read any of it, as far as I knew, I had done what Aiden asked of me. Scare Ashley.

I closed the folder and shoved it back into her bag, releasing the breath I'd been holding for so long, and softly made my way back to the bed. I knew Ashley would pretend to be asleep, but perhaps if I could get her aroused for another round, she'd forget about everything for a while, and hopefully make a run for it the moment I closed my eyes. If _she_ didn't, _I_ definitely would.

Her eyes were closed but her shallow breathing confirmed that she was awake. The bed dipped as my knees sunk onto it, and I took the opportunity to get as close to her as I could. With my mouth lingering on her right ear, hands trailing lightly across her still naked torso, I whispered softly. "Babe…"

I noticed the goosebumps and knew I had her.

Ashley faked a groan and slowly opened her eyes, and for a fleeting moment I could see she was scared, but the fear was quickly replaced with lust. She smiled up at me and ran her warm hands over my breasts, making me forget all about the manila folder…

* * *

By the time I woke up, Ashley was gone.

I wasn't sure whether I should be worried or utterly relieved.

Maybe both.

I turned and stared at the alarm clock, surprised that it was already 9AM. We had really outdone ourselves this time. I groaned as I sat up, feeling just how _much_ we had outdone ourselves. Ashley was _really_ good in bed.

I pondered on taking a long shower – I had an hour to get out of there – or letting Aiden know it was safe to come over for a quickie.

I headed to the door and grabbed for my phone in my clutch, grateful that Ashley hadn't taken it in fear of what I might do with the information that I _supposedly_ gathered. Just the thought made a shiver run down my spine.

I sent a quick text to let Aiden know where I was, left the door unlocked, and decided to jump in the shower anyway. If he was going to come over, he could join me in the bathroom first.

It wasn't even ten minutes later when I heard the familiar click of a door, and my body tingled from arousal, even after the exhausting night of sex I had just had.

"I wasn't expecting you so soon," I murmured, turning around to watch the hunk undress before he joined me under the hot spray. But the person I was staring at wasn't Aiden.

I frowned, utterly confused at Ashley standing right outside the curtain, clad fully in black, a ski mask pulled up over her head. Her eyes were puffy, red, and her expression was pained, her pretty face smeared with tears. Wait, Ashley was _crying_?

"Ashley? What are you doing here? What's going on?" I rambled, my brain unable to grasp the reality of my situation.

Ashley cried even more, shaking her head as she kept apologizing, her voice broken and raspy. "I'm so sorry, Madison. I'm so sorry, I don't want to do this."

I had always considered myself quite street-smart. I may not have been a straight-A student back in school, but on the streets, people couldn't easily fool me. It was how I survived. It was how I was going to achieve my dreams of becoming the world's best professional dancer.

But when it came to Ashley, the girl who could satisfy my needs and still stay a mystery for so long, I found it hard to place her emotions, my own emotions, or even just understand what was going on when she was around me.

This was one of those times. After the incredible night we had spent together, and having been apart for only a couple of hours, I was slow to realize why she was suddenly standing in front of me, dressed completely in black, moving her hand from behind her back to reveal what looked like a gun, while she was crying endlessly.

"I'm so sorry," she kept repeating.

When the silencer pressed against my forehead, I finally understood.

The manila folder in her bag. Aiden wanted her scared. Well, this was Ashley being fucking scared. She had a gun pointed at my forehead and suddenly my dreams of becoming a dancer didn't seem all that possible anymore.

"I'm so sorry."

I heard the click, and a _thwip_ , but I didn't really feel anything. I saw her crumble to the floor before my own eyes closed, and while still being able to process thoughts – which were becoming difficult at an impossible rate – I wondered if Ashley was going to be okay…

* * *

 **Dance Again – Jennifer Lopez ft Pitbull**


	37. So Cold

**A/N: I'm nervous… and pretty soon you will be too. Thanks everyone for reading!**

* * *

 **SoNFan – CH36 : I'm glad to be back too! Hopefully things will be a little more normal from now on and the updates more frequent. Lots of drama to follow so hang on tight! Thank you for reading and reviewing!**

 **TheDWall – CH36 : Nope, it's not Christmas yet… I wish I could surprise you with another 3 chapters but it's taking some careful writing right now not to spoil the entire story! Thank you so much for the compliments and sticking with the story, like I said from the beginning, I'm not planning on abandoning it and in the same breath I would very much like to steer it towards the end now! I was thrilled to read the reactions of Aiden and Madison's connection, I don't mean to make him such a bad guy but he kindof just… I don't know. It's like the universe just put him there, so I'm making the best of it ;) Your nervousness is reasonable, expected, and wanted! Drama is about to happen, so stay tuned! Thank you for reading and reviewing!**

 **K1989 – CH36 : Thank you so much! There is still a lot of chemistry to happen between Ashley and Spencer, but not before some drama… stay tuned for the next couple of chapters, it's going to be intense! I can't reveal anything about the memories… you'll just have to read and find out ;) Thank you for reading and reviewing!**

 **Anjela78 – CH36 : Hahaha I loved your review! It really made me laugh and then smile every time I reread it! I'm glad you're upset with Aiden and relieved that you still like Ashley, she's just a lost girl trying to figure out how she got to the point of doing what she did. At least she's feeling remorseful, unlike Aiden. And unfortunately he's not done with his scheming quite yet… I promise to finish the story before you get too old! ;) My goal was to update weekly which would take the story on an 80-week journey, taking the fic well into mid next-year, but I'm way ahead of schedule since there'd been a lot of updates in the beginning. Anyway, new goal is to complete it at least by the end of the year; but it might be a lot sooner since I've written a lot of the last chapters already. So, I'm trying to finish it quickly, I promise! Have an awesome day and thank you for reading and reviewing!**

* * *

 **Ashley**

 **So Cold**

I felt the pressure in my chest, rushing at an alarming speed towards my throat before I even opened my eyes. And when I finally did I instantly regretted it, unprepared for the electrifying sting on my forehead or relentless daylight in my eyes – forgetting for a moment that I had chosen to sleep on the couch – and even more unprepared for the curious crowd of ghosts in front of me.

But there was no time for pleasantries or welcome greetings; I had to jump up and make it to the closest bathroom before it was too late.

The heaving was unforgiving and so was the blinding pain that seared through my head. I hugged the toilet bowl tightly, shaking uncontrollably in a cold sweat, my throat and chest on fire. In the slight dementia that followed, temporarily confused why this particular hangover was so much worse than any other, I made the silly promise to myself that I would never touch alcohol again.

What felt like hours, but were in fact only about thirty minutes judging by the rays of sunlight flooding through the bathroom blinds, I finally had enough energy to slump back to the lounge, regrettably also reminded of a promise to myself that I would never touch a gun again.

But what I saw in front of me had me crumble back to the floor in desperate tears. I was itching to just pull a trigger and make them go away, cursing myself, cursing my life, cursing everything that I just kept screwing up wherever I went.

"I thought you said she recovered from the accident. She looks like a wreck!"

"She _did_ recover. This is Ashley being Ashley, selfish and irresponsible. And clearly hung over. How did your date go?"

"Wait, a _date_?"

"Yeah, Captain Obvious, a _date_. If you were around more instead of searching the streets for your whore, you would have noticed that your girl here-"

" _Excuse_ me? I'm no _whore_ , bitch! Who do you think-"

"Enough!"

What was meant to put a firm end to the childish bickering, came out raspy and soft, with hardly any impact, but it was enough to grab the ghosts' attention. They immediately stopped fighting and turned to me, surprise etched onto their perfectly sculpted faces.

I couldn't help the sharp intake of breath as I stared at the newest addition to the group: Madison Duarte.

My heart plummeted and regret pushed up into my throat right along with the nausea from earlier. I stared at her in painful agony, taking in how perfect her olive skin looked in the white, fluffy bathrobe, the South End Inn's emblem neatly embroidered on the chest in the hotel's infamous green branding. At least the higher powers had enough decency to have Madison dressed in something - because I remembered very clearly that she was naked in the shower when I pulled that trigger.

Another sharp pain shot through my head at the memory, but it wasn't nearly as painful as the aching in my heart. Even though Madison didn't really mean anything to me, I never wanted to pull a gun on her. She was on her way to fulfill her dreams - she was two months away from achieving that goal after years and years of honest, hard work.

"Ashley," Madison said softly, a small smile dancing at her lips. Her fiery green eyes were brighter than I've ever seen it before. Her complexion looked healthy, _she_ looked healthy aside from the unmistakable scar; an abrasion ring and imprint of my 9mm's barrel tattooed onto her forehead as a result of the burnt gunpowder and close range of the silencer.

"I'm really glad that you're okay after that accident. When they told me…" She stepped forward to reach out toward me but her attempt was futile, her hand just went right through me. "I was worried," she shrugged, as if it didn't mean anything that she couldn't touch me.

The notion ripped _me_ apart, however. I stared at her, trying to express the pain and regret on my face, since the flood of tears wouldn't allow me to utter out any apologies. I couldn't find my voice and even if I did, it was far too late to be sorry.

"Okay, enough of the waterworks. I get that this is a sad little reunion, but can we focus on the important stuff now? Like finally working on getting us the hell out of here?" Kelly sighed indifferently.

"Ash, you had a _date_?" Aiden asked incredulously, as if I had betrayed him.

I froze at hearing his voice, realizing how _he_ had betrayed _me_. Aiden set me up with Madison, Aiden set her up to scare me and then threatened to hand me over to the Agency if I didn't silence her. But there was nothing to silence - Madison barely looked at the file. She was never interested in blackmailing or ruining me.

In the end, Madison was the only one who cared the slightest bit about me.

And I went and turned that against her, took away her dreams, her _life_.

The nausea was back and my limbs felt heavy as I just stared up at them from the floor, unable to process all of this. Part of me wanted to get up and run, another part of me wanted to lose my shit and kill them all over again. Especially Aiden. And then Kelly, just for being such an anal bitch.

"Ashley?"

And then there was the part of me that was healing and breaking into pieces all over again. I could feel my chest constricting painfully as panic set in.

The ghosts' attention turned from me and they looked towards the direction of my room in awe, where it was quite obvious that Spencer had woken up.

"Your date is still _here_?" Aiden hissed.

"Wait… why does her voice sound so familiar?" Kelly asked, a pensive frown on her flawless forehead.

I was in a state of hysteria, my body shutting down instinctively. If I answered them, Spencer would want to know who I was talking to. If I didn't answer them, they were going to make things worse. Way worse. I didn't want them to know who Spencer was, what she looked like, or even her _name_.

After the betrayal I had just discovered from Aiden, I feared for Spencer's safety more than I feared the state of my own sanity.

"You need to go," I urged them anxiously, my voice still soft and hoarse, thankfully.

But today wasn't my day. The ghosts were stubborn and unruly and downright _rude_ – kind of the same way I had been treating them the past couple of weeks. I looked up at them pleadingly, my arms and legs numb with fear, my heart pounding painfully against my chest.

"I _told_ you to stop with your hook-ups, Ash," Aiden reprimanded me.

The fear of them seeing Spencer was forgotten in an instant, and I felt anger starting to boil up inside me. I squeezed my eyes and mouth shut, trying to compel down the pain and nausea that came with the memories I forced myself to remember.

I remembered that day so clearly, having received my next case file. Sasha Miller's case file. She was the first person I had to pull the trigger on that wasn't even legal to drink yet. She was still a kid. A young adult – but in my line of job, in my eyes, still a kid. It was upsetting. Aiden was there to comfort me at the coffee shop.

Then I met up with Madison and found her going through my stuff while I was dozing off in the aftermath of our coupling, finding Sasha's file. I remembered the fear, the first taste of betrayal. Except, it was never Madison that was betraying me.

I left as soon as she fell back asleep after I tried for a second time to wear her out. Aiden was the first person I called. I knew I was too close to her to deal with things myself – I had been feeling too many things lately, and I knew I wasn't in the right state of mind to make a decision that wouldn't result in getting myself killed.

So I chose my own life above Madison's.

Aiden took me to his place after scaring me even more, dropping hints that the Agency could be onto me. I couldn't believe I had been so blind to his intentions.

It wasn't even an hour later and he told me I had to get rid of her, before she even got a chance to leave the hotel. He made sure all the logistics were taken care of, all I had to do was go in and pull the trigger. Like I always did.

And like the blind, trusting person I was, because I thought no-one cared, no-one knew me, except for Aiden, I did everything exactly as he told me to.

I went back into the hotel, clad stylishly in black, slipped into the elevator unseen, slipped into room 502, pulled the trigger. I escaped through a fire-escape, skilfully gliding down the six flights of stairs until I landed in the alley where Aiden was waiting in his black SUV.

He told me to stop having sex as a precaution.

At the time it made sense – I was scared to death, I was petrified of being found out. And putting another innocent life at risk.

But he didn't want me to have sex, with girls. _He_ wanted me. He'd always wanted me, as I frighteningly found after pulling a trigger on him.

If Aiden was already dead, how was I going to get rid of Madison's ghost?

She was the second person, the second ghost now, whose afterlife was dependent on what happened to me.

I shivered at the thought, wondering how many more there were. How many people did I kill, how many people did I kill that _wasn't_ a hit?

But right now, all that really mattered was how was I going to get rid of this ghost, this guy that betrayed me, this guy that angered me so much even when he was _dead_. Who did I have to kill to get him away from me?

 _"Ashley?"_

The angelic voice that brought so much calmness over me lately made my already numb body froze. My eyes shot open, ears trained on the soft padding of feet in my carpeted room. The handle turned, and the door squeaked open.

I held my breath, feeling a slight nervous tremble coursing through me as her footsteps grew louder. Around me, my ghosts still stood firmly in place. I hated them, hated them all for doing this to me. Even Sean and Sasha, who normally avoided all the confrontation, stayed put, not giving me an out this time. Kelly still had this pondering frown, as if trying to figure out who the voice belonged to. _As if_. There was no way someone like Spencer would ever put up with someone like Kelly. They were the complete opposite from each other, and I doubted the beautiful blonde would want to know someone as abrasive as Kelly. Madison at least had the decency to look sorry for intruding, for staying, for making things so much worse than it already was. And of course, Aiden looked smug. Because he knew, he _knew_ that I was going to lose Spencer too.

They all waited in anticipation for my date to make her appearance, while I shrunk into myself, pulling my knees up to my chest, as if trying to protect myself against what was about to happen.

And here I was being selfish, _again_. The ghosts were going to see Spencer, and she was as good as dead. And all I cared about was hiding within myself.

The moment I saw her socked feet appear from the short hallway, I closed my eyes tightly, letting the sobs take over as I regretfully wished for the first time that I never met Spencer.

"Ash?"

* * *

 **So Cold – Ben Cocks ft Nikisha Reyes**


	38. Come Home

**A/N: And the plot thickens… enjoy! ;)**

* * *

 **GirlsOnly – CH36 : Thank you for the compliments :) Yeah, unfortunately drama is going to unfold like crazy now, so you better hold on. Aiden's betrayal is merely a drop in the water considering what's coming! I also liked the way Madison's chapter turned out; I think she was the first character to see** ** _the_** **or** ** _a_** **good side of Ashley without any ulterior motives. Hope you enjoy the rest, thank you for reading and reviewing!**

 **TheDWall – CH37 : Oh you've got that right, things are definitely going down! Wait until you read this chapter! It's about to get messy! Haha, the general consensus is that people are very upset about Aiden's betrayal… I hope there's no Aiden fans out there! Sorry not sorry! Enjoy the update and thank you for reading and reviewing!**

 **K1989 – CH37 : Awwww… is it heartless of me to say that I'm glad it broke your heart? I'm not really glad but I'm happy that the chapter had the impact that I wanted it to have. It even made me sad! Hope you enjoy this update, things are going to spin out of control pretty soon. Thank you for reading and reviewing!**

 **SoNFan – CH37 : Thank you! Here's the next chapter, also nerve-wrecking if I must say so myself. Enjoy! Thank you for reading and reviewing!**

 **Anjela78 – CH37 : Haha your reviews are really making me laugh ;) It's been very interesting to read everyone's reactions on the betrayal chapter, and believe me when I say, things are going to get even more tense! This chapter is for you… the voice of reason as requested ;) Have a great day and thank you for reading and reviewing!**

 **GirlsOnly – CH37 : Haha I'm sorry, but I need to take breaks after these hectic scenes! And like I mentioned in other review comments, it's been entertaining to read everyone's reactions on Aiden's betrayal! Thank you for the compliment! Hope this update was quick enough, but it might make you even more nervous! Thank you for reading and reviewing!**

* * *

 **Kyla**

 **Come Home**

It's been an extremely busy morning. After just going through two adult beginner classes, I was feeling the tension and lack of patience build up in my neck, and I knew if I didn't take care of it soon I'd sit with a headache for the rest of the day.

Closing my eyes and rubbing my neck subconsciously at the thought, I haven't noticed Debbie leaning against the doorframe of my office door, staring at me intently. When I finally looked up and we made eye contact, she took it as her cue and walked in softly, her trainers barely squeaking on the laminated wooden floors. It was times like these that I was so grateful for my best friend. She knew me better than I sometimes knew myself.

"Can I get you anything for that headache?" she asked calmly, her brow raised in an effort to make sure she came across as intimidating so I would take care of the problem.

Ever since I'd told Debbie everything about my trip to LA, she'd been extra attentive, making sure I didn't overexert myself – just in case I had to jump on a plane and go find my sister. In the same breath she made sure to ask at least once every day if I had heard anything from detective Carlin, or anything from Christine, or either of our lawyers.

But things had been excruciatingly quiet the past three weeks. All the information I could get from my lawyers regarding the inheritance that my father had left in my and Ashley's names, I had ensured to forward to the detective. Anything that I could find, really, I forwarded to his e-mail address, figuring it would be better to give him some space and let him sort through the myriad of information in his own time. The last I heard was that he was waiting for approval on a search warrant for the Davies mansion.

I supposed in the meantime, there wasn't really much more they could do. They probably had a ton of other cases to work through; I remembered seeing the San Francisco court house case file on his table, and also more disturbingly, a case on the mayor's deceased daughter. A chill ran through me as I recalled the time I'd spent in LA a couple of months ago, landing there the day right after the shooting.

The airport was a mixture of uniformed officers and local travelers. Everywhere I went that day I was reminded of the horrific incident that had happened. Even the car rental agency had to take me to their downtown office, where the crime scene of the killing of mayor Miller's daughter extended to, and I wondered now where I had found the strength to push through all of that and still accept a car from that company while everything was tainted by thoughts of crime and murder.

I sighed, luring myself back to reality, only to find Debbie still staring, amusement plastered all over her face.

"Welcome back, Ms Woods. I hope you enjoyed your short trip to crazy-land. I do assure you, however, that the present is much more fun to live in." Her teasing was annoying, at most, but I couldn't fault Debbie for trying to make things a little easier for me, even if it was just by keeping the mood light.

I chuckled and rubbed over my tired eyes. It wasn't even noon yet and already it felt like I'd been up and about for an entire day. "I've got a more advanced class up next, right?"

Debbie frowned but walked over to my wall with the huge whiteboard, where she updated my schedule every morning. She was a great assistant.

"Hmmm, yeah, looks like it. You've got a senior group coming up. Will you be able to manage?"

A sinister laugh escaped me as I thought of the pose I had in mind that I wanted them to try. "Yeah, I'm positive I'll manage."

* * *

"If you have suffered any previous back injuries or feel any discomfort, keep your knees bent and your feet on the floor."

I turned my head from my position on the floor, casting a quick glance to see whether my class was following. It took a while for them to settle; despite how easy and comfortable the _Corpse_ pose looked, it was quite the contrary. Lying flat on your back with palms turned up for five minutes could prove difficult for generally active people. I was one of those; my mind couldn't even switch off for two minutes while I was fully conscious.

Which was why I was eager to try this pose with my class today. I had to try and switch off, try and push aside my obsessive thoughts about finding Ashley for just one day. Or at least an hour. Bonus points if I could even do so for thirty minutes.

I was three minutes in when Debbie uncharacteristically and apologetically interrupted my class, her expression serious as she bent down next to me, her voice down to a whisper.

"I'm sorry to do this, Ky." Her expression turned from serious to something between nervous and excitement. "But detective Carlin asked that you phone him, he said it was rather urgent. He also asked what your schedule is like for the week… so I'm guessing you'll be running off to LA again."

My resolve to focus on my own life was forgotten within seconds as I let Debbie's words sink in. The words _urgent_ and _schedule_ were enough to make me jump up and excuse myself, hurrying to my office to phone the detective immediately. I didn't even realize that Debbie politely handled my clients, offering them vouchers in lieu of my 'emergency'.

I _did_ consider it an emergency when detective Carlin informed me that Christine Davies had cleared out the mansion and disappeared overnight – she must have gotten wind of the approved search warrant; the detective and his team were at the empty house as we spoke.

My heart was hammering hard against my chest; fear and adrenaline pumping through my veins at the same pace thoughts ran through my mind. Did this mean Christine knew something? Or was she hiding something? Did she have Ashley? Why would she just up and leave like that?

 _"Miss Woods, are you still there?"_

I blushed despite no-one being able to see. "Yeah, I'm still here."

 _"Look, I know this is an inconvenience and I understand traveling cross-country so often is not cheap. But I think it is best that you come to LA for at least a week. That way we can collaborate on all the information you've sent, and also perhaps get your lawyers down here for a day."_

Traveling wasn't an issue. Accommodation wasn't an issue. Money wasn't an issue. Christine's _disappearance_ was my issue. I had a terrible feeling about this, and wanted to voice my concerns, but I knew me panicking over the phone wasn't going to help anyone.

"I'll catch the next flight out. I'll be there for as long as you need me." One thing did cross my mind, and I wondered if detective Carlin would think I was crazy. "Are you guys still at the house?"

 _"Yes, we're doing a thorough search anyway. You never know what gets left behind. And Miss Woods, she's not in the basement. Your sister is definitely not on these premises,"_ detective Carlin reassured me.

I wasn't sure if that was reassuring at all. I wouldn't have minded if Christine had Ashley locked away and fled, leaving her for us to find. I would have been okay with that. The uncertainty was what was killing me. Was my sister even still alive?

 _"Have a safe flight, Miss Woods. Come down to the station early tomorrow morning, I'll have a visitor's pass ready for you. Try and get some sleep tonight."_

I laughed _. Yeah right_. "I'll see you tomorrow, detective Carlin. And uhm, thank you."

 _"Don't thank me yet. This doesn't mean anything, Miss Woods, please don't get your hope up just yet."_

"See you tomorrow."

I couldn't let myself think that way. I put down my phone and looked up at the roof, trying to take deep breaths to calm down. My hands were shaking slightly, and I knew it was going to be like this until I set foot back in LA, back in the police station, eager to know what discoveries had been made.

"Ky?"

Debbie stood in the door, concern written all over her face.

I offered a faint smile and sighed. "Deb, I need to get to LA. I don't know how long I'm going to be there. I'll leave you my company card – get Donna in or please try to find another instructor for the time being. I'm taking my laptop so we can communicate and I will personally send out a mail to all our clients to apologize."

Debbie stepped closer and put her hand on my shaking arm, offering some comfort. "I'll handle everything, don't worry about a thing. Did they – "

I shook my head, knowing what was on her mind. "No, they haven't found her. But that monster that gave birth to her disappeared overnight – right after the search warrant was approved. Cleared out the whole place. I don't know what this means, but it is quite obvious that Christine Davies is hiding something. Or _someone_. And so help me God, if she had hurt Ashley in _any_ way, I will kill her with my bare hands."

Debbie chuckled and squeezed my arm before letting go. "Save your angry energy for LA. You're going to need it. And if you need anything, let me know, okay?"

The overwhelming emotions of trying to keep it together while at the same time feeling like I was going to burst at the seams had me pull Debbie in for a tight hug. I couldn't have asked for a better friend, and I knew I owed her big time for being so understanding and so willing to help.

"When I get back you can take a week – I'll even pay for a holiday for you somewhere. I really appreciate everything you do, Deb."

I felt her body shaking as she chuckled against me. "Oh, stop, you're going to make us both cry."

* * *

The unrest right outside 9th Division wasn't doing anything to calm my nerves. After a restless night and too much caffeine I was on edge. It took the cab driver ten minutes to get through the massive crowds in the street of the police department, it was evident they were protesting about something, and I held my breath as we got closer to the station. Whatever was going on, was going on at the police station.

My hands were still shaky and it was getting worse as panic set in at the commotion outside. I wasn't sure how I'd be able to get inside safely. There were so many people I had to look up against the building to make out where the front steps were. The crowd kept chanting obscenities and requests for the mayor to step down, swaying placards and banners high up in the air.

Two uniformed officers thankfully stepped closer and assisted me inside, locking the doors behind us as we got cut off from the noise outside.

"What's going on?" I couldn't help but ask. It was eerily quiet inside, as if I had traveled through to a different universe.

"The Mayor is here, ma'am. Can I assist you with anything?"

I looked at the young cop, thankful for his manners and assistance. I had my reservations about the west coast population of America. "Yeah, I'm here to see detective Carlin. He's expecting me."

"Your name?"

Of course. "Kyla Woods."

He left me standing in the lobby while he went up to the front desk, and I couldn't help but smirk as Sergeant Williams looked up at me with a scowl. I was starting to enjoy her being pissed off at seeing me here so often.

"You can head over to the security check, an officer inside will accompany you to detective Carlin's office. He's just in a conference with Mayor Miller at the moment," the young cop said, handing me my visitor's sticker.

I mumbled a _thank you_ and headed over to the security checkpoint, sighing as the female officer patted me down, and then escorted me to glass paneled offices.

I was curious to know what the commotion about the mayor's visit was. I wondered if they had found anything on the perpetrators who had killed his daughter. Just my luck to be stuck in here when just a couple of months ago I was at one of the crime scenes. It felt uncanny.

"You can have a seat, Miss Woods. Detective Carlin will be with you as soon as they are done with the Mayor."

The lady barely waited for me to say anything before she disappeared again, leaving me alone in the huge office. It was unnerving sitting here, knowing there were case files and confidential information all around me. I glanced up and felt my heart stop for a moment when an A4 sized photograph of Ashley was stuck to a whiteboard, and right next to it, a photograph of Christine. I squinted to try and make out all the writing regarding the case, but I was too far away, and didn't want to get up and snoop.

"Detective Carlin! I've got two mug shots, one is quite clear! You will _never_ belie – _oh_!"

I looked up, startled, at the young… _rookie_ – as stated on his name tag pinned right above his pocket – and smiled as he blushed.

"I'm so sorry, I thought the detective was here. Have you been assisted, ma'am?"

One thing I would have to get used to, was the good manners of 9th Division. I was starting to appreciate everyone at this station except for Sergeant Williams. She had no manners at all.

"I have, thank you, I'm waiting for detective Carlin."

The rookie ran his hand through his short hair, seeming unsure of what he was supposed to do now. He had two photographs in his hands, and kept eyeing detective Carlin's desk in front of me.

"Okay, good. I'm going to leave this on his desk. I know you don't work here or anything, but can you tell him that this is for the Mayor's daughter's case? He will want to look at that immediately."

I nodded eagerly, curiosity getting the better of me. I wondered if they were close to cracking the case. The rookie must have noticed my interest, and as he lowered the photographs, he put them to the far side of the desk, blushing as he did so. "Confidential. I'm officer Ford. Nice to meet you, ma'am."

"Ford! Stop flirting and get your ass to the front door, the crowds are getting out of hand!"

I sighed and fiddled with my hands, the nervous tension rising as seconds passed by. I could hear superiors barking out panicked orders; and suddenly there were a lot of scurrying around as more officers headed towards all exit points.

I had to find something to keep myself busy, I couldn't take the stress of Christine's disappearance and the whole protestor commotion outside and the mayor inside; my nerves had been on edge for too long.

I swiveled around in the office chair, staring at the closest whiteboard, taking in the information and photographs. _Sasha Miller_. She was only seventeen years old. Assassinated while delivering her valedictorian speech during graduation. My heart ached for her, for her family. She was so young. The photograph of Sasha was beautiful. I found it hard to grasp that someone could be so heartless to take a young girl's life, undeserving. Her father may have been a scumbag, but it didn't give anyone the right to take her life, or any life for that matter. It was sickening. I really hoped they would catch whoever did this. And it looked like they were onto something, and suddenly I felt privileged to have detective Carlin working on Ashley's case. If he was important enough to handle such a high profile case for the mayor, then surely there was hope for Ashley?

I let out a deep breath as my eyes raked over several other photographs pinned to the board of Sasha Miller's case. I could make out the car rental agency that I'd picked up my car from. There were a lot of photographs around that crime scene. I skipped over the photographs of the dead people and concentrated on the rest, just cars and some close ups of bullet casings. It was like staring at something out of the movies; black SUV, a red muscle car with someone's head barely in the picture, and casings that looked like it came from the military. A cold shiver went through me, demanding I pull my attention towards something else, _anything_ else.

And it was easy, really, since a siren started going off and the lights flickered twice. I heard the words _breach_ , _evacuate_ , and _lockdown_ , and felt my knees going weak. Was I supposed to evacuate? What the hell was going on? There was so much noise and it was just getting worse. Did the protestors get inside?

"Ma'am, we need to evacuate! Please follow me!" a uniformed officer yelled at me from the door. He held out his hand to escort me out, but my foot got caught on my chair as I jumped up, so I grabbed onto detective Carlin's desk, knocking down manila folders, papers, and the confidential photographs.

Time stood still then.

Everything around me faded out temporarily as I stared down at the photographs. The same red muscle car that I had just seen on Sasha Miller's whiteboard was in one photo. And the driver was looking right ahead. The driver, who was a female. With brown hair loosely tied up. Her eyes looked startled in the photo.

I didn't understand. I couldn't understand.

The person driving that car looked alarmingly like my missing sister.

The more I stared, the more I was convinced that that was Ashley in that car.

It didn't make any sense.

Was it possible?

"Ma'am, we need to go, _now_!"

In a split-second decision, I grabbed for the photographs and stuck them into my bag before turning towards the door, towards the oblivious officer who still held his hand out to me, and I let him rush me towards the nearest exit.

I wasn't sure what had my body trembling more; the fear of what was going inside the police station, the fear of being caught out for grabbing the photos, or the fear of what those photographs meant.

All I knew was that I had to get away from this police station, away from detective Carlin, away from LA, and _fast_.

* * *

 **Come Home – One Republic ft. Sara Bareilles**


	39. Ashes of Eden

**A/N: I hope everyone was able to read Chapter 38 – up until today it is still not available on my mobile app but it is definitely on the web version. Hopefully when I upload this chapter everything will be fixed :) Thanks to everyone who is still sticking to this story, I know it's been a while since I last updated!**

 **Anjela78 – CH38 : It's only a pleasure – thank you for all your devoted reviews! I almost feel bad now about the way everyone hates Aiden – it's funny to read the reactions but shame, poor guy hehe. Next fic (if he's in it) I'll give him a more likeable role! I just want to clear up that Sergeant Williams is not involved in any of the plot, her role is basically the same as describing a scene and she was just part of it ;) About Kyla… well… she is strong and fearless like you said (I really liked the way you put it) and she will do anything to find her sister. She may not know the gravity of what she had stumbled upon yet – it was after all, a tense moment where she hardly knew what was going on or what was going to happen. But a couple of chapters down the line we'll find out just how she reacts to those pictures. Who knows what she will do… desperate times call for desperate measures, right? I hope you enjoy the next chapter, things will stay tense for a while but eventually we'll get to the Spashley end everybody is asking for :) Have a wonderful evening, and thank you for reading and reviewing!**

 **TheDWall – CH38 : Yeah, it was bound to happen that things would start catching up with Ashley, and this is the mere beginning. I can't tell what Kyla's reaction is going to be yet, you'll have to wait and see ;) (I think she may still be fleeing or hiding and is scared to look at the pictures as I'm typing this :P) Ashley and the ghosts… well… stay tuned, she is headed towards a dark and pressing path of having to make some serious decisions! Keep on reading to find out what happened on that terrible morning! Thank you so much for reading and reviewing!**

 **GirlsOnly – CH38 : Thank you for complimenting the plot! I must admit not everything is always thoroughly thought out, but there are some key things, like the flowers, and obviously the photographs :) But thank you, I really appreciate it! If you look at the bigger picture, yes, Kyla did a stupid thing, because I'm sure taking the pics are probably against the law and could get her into a lot of trouble. But she was in shock, had no time to really think it through, plus, she is really desperate to find her sister and hopefully her chapters have described enough of her feelings towards protecting Ashley. Keep on reading to find out what happens when it sinks in what those photographs mean! In the meantime, thank you for reading and reviewing!**

 **Guest – CH38 : Ah, some constructive criticism. Thank you for the compliment and also pointing out about how you are experiencing Ashley and Spencer's interaction! I have to agree with you, when I reread some chapters it does feel kind of flat, but there is still a lot of development to happen between the two before they can get to the dynamic Spashley we all love so much ;) I appreciate the feedback on the chapter/music selection, it really means a lot! Please keep on reading for Spashley! Thank you for reading and reviewing!**

 **K1989 – CH38 : Yes, here we go! Lots of drama to follow! And I promise some Spashley love too! Thank you so much for reading and reviewing!**

 **Guest – CH38 : Thank you! I hope you continue to read, it is a slow burn and I'm almost halfway through, still a lot to happen! Thank you for reading and reviewing!**

 **Guest – CH38 : Thank you! I generally try to update weekly, but weekly had turned into monthly, and now I'm just finding myself desperate to get back to schedule as this story is really close to me! Anyway, thank you for reading and reviewing, hope this chapter doesn't disappoint!**

 **Lauren – CH38 : Thank you so much! I'm about halfway with the story now, and I'm trying my best to update in a timeous manner, but life sometimes get in the way! I'm really glad you're enjoying the story and the mystery, there's still a ton to happen before it draws to an end… so stay tuned :) Thank you for reading and reviewing!**

* * *

 **Ashley**

 **Ashes of Eden**

"Ash?"

I held my ragged breath and started counting to fifty, hoping it was enough time for my oxygen supply to run out and make me lose consciousness or either die. Either option seemed very appealing and I hoped something would happen soon.

Something _did_ , but not what I had hoped for.

It was better.

Firm arms wrapped around my shaking body and involuntary made me release the breath I was holding, unable to force myself into unconsciousness. Before looking up into those caring blue eyes, I peeked between our entangled limbs and realized that we were all alone.

A shaking sob of pure relief escaped me.

"Are you okay? What happened?" Spencer asked, pulling back slightly, her hands cupping my face to look up at her. Her eyes darted from mine to take in my appearance, which no doubt must have been somewhat concerning. Her brow furrowed, turning her expression into a concerned pout as her eyes met mine again. "You look like you've seen a ghost."

The truth in her statement and the abundance of concern just made me cry again, making me want to pull away to put some distance between us, distance from her, from her care, from these new feelings we had for each other.

There was no way I could continue like this, having more and more ghosts return, and all the while fearing the monster I was and what could possibly happen to Spencer because of me. I'd never be able to live with myself if something had to happen to her; it was already difficult enough to get through each day knowing my ghosts were all my own doing. No matter the situations I were in, I was the one who ultimately pulled the trigger.

She wrapped her arms around me again and let me cry it all out, soaking her cool skin against me with my dam of warm tears. It was comforting, but not comforting enough for my brain to stop reeling about the situation that I was in.

I really liked Spencer. I wasn't entirely sure what it was we were doing; I liked to think about it as the beginning stages of what they called _dating_. I enjoyed the time we spent together and cherished every moment with her, tucking it away safely in the vast blank space I had available for memories. And I was touched by her thoughtfulness and things she did to try and help me.

Her selflessness wanted me to be a better person. I wanted to look ahead in life instead of being reminded of my past all the time. I wanted to freely dream about a partner, perhaps one day a fiancé, a wife, without having to worry what she would think of my past and without having to worry about her life being in danger. I wanted to dream about a place I could call home – not like my condo, not like the place I was surrounded by the ghosts of my past.

But even in my want, it was difficult to even imagine any of these things while constantly being reminded of what a monster I was. I wished to close my eyes and dream happy dreams. Of white weddings, white picket fences, white linings around this dark soul of mine. I just wanted to be free of all this death and difficult feelings that were constantly dragging me down.

And sometimes, with Spencer, I could almost reach that place, where everything I was got pushed aside, making space for hopeful dreams. It was at my fingertips, yet I couldn't quite reach.

"Better?"

I finally pulled back from Spencer's tight hold and tried to pull myself together. I had no idea how I was going to explain myself out of this. How would I explain to her that I was scared of my ghosts _meeting_ her?

I nearly laughed out loud at the thought.

"Can I get you anything? Water?"

Her voice was laced with deep concern, her eyes sparkling as she took in my appearance, _again_.

I felt a flutter in my heart at the way Spencer was looking at me. It wasn't the same way girls ogled over me, like Paige, Monica, even Madison. It was the only way they ever saw me – for my body and pleasure.

But Spencer was different. She possessed a sense of strength this morning that I couldn't quite fathom where it came from. Eyeing her carefully, I couldn't pick up a trace of a hangover or even puffy eyes from all the crying last night. In fact, despite _me_ falling completely apart, Spencer looked almost… _content_. Not happy that I was in such a state, but happy that she was here, with me.

Her eyes were bright and as she held my face cupped in her hands, forcing me to look at her, I felt that sense of security, a sense of feeling _safe_. It was overwhelming and warm and scary at the same time. I was on that edge again, right at the tip of getting lost in Spencer and forgetting about everything around me.

I finally nodded, the closeness getting too intense for me.

Spencer got up from the floor and I watched her traipse to the kitchen, my shoulders sagging with utmost relief as I glanced around a second time and couldn't find a trace of the ghosts. Either they really wanted me to have a nervous breakdown, or it was impossible – obviously against their wishes – to be in the same room as other living beings. Whatever it was, I would be eternally grateful, but knew that I couldn't ever put myself, or Spencer, in the same situation again.

Which left me with some thinking and decision making to do… and I knew that I wasn't quite ready for that. Yet.

"Did you remember something?"

Spencer was back with some water, and I took the opportunity to stall while taking slow sips to come up with an excuse why she found in me in the state she did. I _hated_ lying to her, it chipped away at me and I could hardly look her in the eyes.

"Yeah…"

Without pushing further, Spencer sat down next to me, her hand on my shoulder. "I'm here for you. Whenever you need to talk."

There it was again. That sense of security. It was in her eyes, in her gestures, the tone of her voice and her body language. I wished I could let her in, tell her what was going on, _so badly_. For the couple of weeks that Spencer and I had known each other, I was starting to feel the unfairness of not sharing anything about my life with her, deciding to hide behind memory loss instead. And while Spencer would never know the difference, I knew that the more I lied to her, the further I was pushing her away. At the same time I was selfish, trying to keep her as close to me as I could – my life would crumble if I had to lose her now. But while Spencer was grieving and slowly healing from the loss of her girlfriend, I was sinking deeper into my own demise.

"I know what would cheer you up a little," Spencer finally said after a long, non-awkward silence. She sat back and waited for me to look at her, a hopeful smile on her pretty face.

I raised an eyebrow, her statement challenging my inner thoughts. The _only_ thing that would cheer me up was permanent disappearance of my ghosts and perhaps another memory wipe.

"I don't know about you, but there's a great cure for hangovers at Angel's Diner, if you're interested?"

I stared at her, wondering where this girl came from. The last thing on my mind ever since I woke up was the hangover and the effect it had on my empty stomach. But Spencer, the angel that she was, knew how to cheer me up indeed. Nothing could take my mind off this horrible morning quite like the tasty blueberry pancakes.

* * *

"I never thanked you, for taking care of me last night. I'm sorry for ruining our evening," Spencer blushed, gracefully taking a bite of her pancake.

I had to mentally force myself to slow down, unable to convince myself that the diner wouldn't disappear overnight, and neither would the chef's ability to make these amazing pancakes.

I nodded, swallowing down a popped blueberry, basking in the taste it left behind in my mouth. "You didn't ruin anything. I think we both needed to unwind a little. Maybe not with all that alcohol, but sometimes it's good to cry it all out."

Spencer nodded gleefully in agreement, and I couldn't help but feel a slight tinge of jealousy that she felt lighter while I felt the world resting on my shoulders. But when she smiled at me, her eyes sparkling, the heaviness disappeared and I realized I'd do anything to keep her smiling like that.

"I really like spending time with you," she said softly, her gaze dropping shyly. "No matter what we get up to, you always make me feel better."

A lump slowly worked its way into my throat, making it difficult to swallow my food down. I considered her words carefully, an unusual warm feeling rushing through me. Spencer was the first person who admitted that _I_ made _her_ feel better. It felt odd, knowing I used to do quite the opposite ever since I could remember. I scattered pain and heartbreak wherever I went.

So to hear those words did something to me. It made me _feel_. I was on that edge again, close to tipping over into _Spencerly_ heaven. And boy, how I didn't want to let go and fall right in! Without giving it a second thought, I closed my eyes briefly, imagining myself there – standing on a ledge _so_ high all I could see for miles were white, fluffy, clouds. Spencer was right in front of me, floating, her smile dreamy and soft, encouraging me to take the leap. Her hand reached out to me, and without hesitation I grabbed towards it, allowing myself to be pulled into a heaven I was sure I'd be kicked out of.

Because of course; I was a terrible person. The clouds were not as fluffy as they looked; it prickled my skin, tickled my nose, and pressed painfully into my skull. Spencer's smile was gone and she looked… _terrified_.

"Ash… Ashley? Are you okay?"

My eyes shot open and I found with a pang in my chest that Spencer still looked terrified. She was reaching toward me, a napkin in her hand, her eyes wide and wild with worry.

I still felt the prickly feeling, my skin tingling all over. The tickle in my nose spilled over my lip and onto the solid Blackstone table, and as I looked down, my own eyes went wide with surprise. The numbing pain in my skull was accompanied by a heavy nosebleed and an odd feeling crawling over my skin I couldn't quite describe.

Things happened in a fast blur after that.

I remembered trying to get up, needing to find a restroom to wash my face and stop the nosebleed. But gravity pulled me down, and in an instant I found myself flat on the floor, staring up at the diner roof, Spencer's face hovering over me, becoming a silhouette against the bright lights behind her.

I heard someone yell _"Call 911!"._ I heard Spencer begging me to focus on her and stay conscious. I heard the beat of my own heart, pulsating loudly over the ringing in my ears. There was a lot of commotion around me, and I grabbed for Spencer's hand, holding on tight in fear of getting lost in the pandemonium.

It was the last thing I remembered before my body was lifted from the floor onto a slightly softer surface. A blanket was supposed to take away the violent tremble that overtook my limbs. The only thing that lessened the panic was the hand that hadn't yet let go of mine.

Then there was fresh air, the bright, morning sunlight blinding, forcing me to squeeze my eyes shut.

"Ashley…"

Spencer's voice sounded raw, pained, panicked.

I allowed my eyes to flutter open, the sunlight replaced by flashes of light – alternating from long white stripes to beige blocks to white stripes to beige blocks to large round lights to –

Unfamiliar faces blocked the light; a middle-aged man, his hair stark black against his pale skin. He hadn't shaved in days, making me want to scrape my palms over the stubble on his chin to relieve the tingling feeling that was still there.

A younger male was next to him, cleanly shaven, hair bleached blonde, reminding me of Dylan the surfer.

Other faces came and went, all of them talking a language I didn't understand, fumbling above and around me until the surface underneath me changed again.

Spencer was back – her blue eyes filled with overwhelming concern. I could see her lips moving but she too, was speaking a foreign language. A warm squeeze to my hand reassured me that she wouldn't let anything happen to me.

And then I found myself in utter white space.

I couldn't move; my legs, midsection and hands were tied down. My head was secured by sturdy padding all around it. Moments later something covered my eyes, throwing me into complete darkness.

And then the most horrific sound emanated above me, beside me, around me. It started out sounding like the rotating blades of a wind turbine. It whooshed every fifth second, then fourth, third, until it became a constant noise. Lasting for what felt like a handful of minutes, until the _whooshing_ stopped, and teleported me onto an old locomotive trying to make its way up a steep hill. That too, took a couple of minutes, and suddenly it felt like I was in an office, listening to the old type Dot Matrix printers do its job.

It was exhausting trying to figure out what the noise was, and even more exhausting to try and figure out what was going on. Even through restrictive movements my limbs felt incredibly heavy, like my eyelids, and I soon gave in and just let the strangely soothing sounds carry me into total emptiness…

* * *

 **Ashes of Eden – Breaking Benjamin**


	40. Explain it to me

**A/N: Fasten your seatbelts!**

 **SonFan – CH37 : Thank you so much! And thank you for still reading this fic and reviewing even though I haven't updated in so long!**

 **Anjela78 – CH39 : Thank you for still following! I know the next chapter and possibly a whole lot of them after this will keep you at the edge of your seat, but good things come to those who wait ;) Have a wonderful evening and enjoy :) And thanks for reading and reviewing!**

 **TheDWall – CH39 : Surprise! This was just as funny, just as I was going to post this update, I quickly checked to ensure I caught all reviews, and there yours was, like, posted 2 minutes ago! There will be a couple of cliffhangers and things will be tense, but every cloud has its silver lining… eventually! Hope you enjoy the update! (And I hope it was soon enough ;) Thanks for reading and reviewing!**

* * *

 **Glen**

 **Explain it to me**

"Look, I've got a rookie on it at the moment, he's been tracking that Dodge from the crime scene downtown all the way up to Mission Hills. There's plenty of traffic cams along the way, we've had several snaps that were almost clear enough to see the suspect's face."

"And who exactly authorized this, Carlin? I remember specifically that we just needed someone on the ground looking into the car dealership."

This was fucking frustrating. I stared at Captain Tanner in disbelief, wondering if they've heard anything at all I just told them.

"Detective Carlin, you do realize that the rookie you commissioned to do this will get in as much trouble as yourself…" Deputy Commissioner Kline added, rubbing salt into a suddenly giant, ugly wound.

I couldn't believe the Mayor of Los Angeles had come down all the way to 9th Division, causing mayhem outside, just to shit on my Captain's head for doing the FBI's work. Of course, this entire thing made them look bad, since they haven't found any leads and couldn't even come up with any ideas how to look into this case further. I wanted to wring the CSI's neck who leaked that I requested a ballistics report. They would certainly not get any recognition when we cracked this.

And we _were_ going to. Ford had a little more brains than I gave him credit for. There had been so many close snapshots that were just too blurry to recover in post in order to get a proper look at the driver of that Dodge. I knew it was just a matter of time – for all we know he might already have found one, and I was stuck being reprimanded for finding a high profile killer.

"With all due respect, DC Kline, Detective Carlin was simply following my orders," Carlos piped up, switching on his charm for the tall brunette Commissioner. It was a long standing fact that she had the hots for Carlos, going as far back as our rookie days.

My head snapped towards him, and I couldn't decide whether to stop him or encourage him to continue. Carlos had mostly given me free reign on this case while he had his own to close, only joining me occasionally on investigations. He was, after all, my equal, and I didn't need him to hold my hand, but Tanner had explicitly paired us as a team for this, and since he was frustrated about Carlos not able to close the fraud case he was busy with, it was easy to take unnecessary frustrations out on my partner.

"And your orders were to disobey a direct order from myself and your Captain regarding this investigation?" Mayor Miller asked, his brows raised high into his balding forehead.

I wanted to puke as realization hit me what this was _really_ about. Mayor Miller wasn't actively trying to find the assassin - this was all about politics! Ever since the San Francisco massacre and the case against him and his phonies went to D.C., he'd become an even bigger asshole. There was so much pressure from the White House, and he wouldn't just do the honorable thing and step down, no, he put his own family at risk and sacrificed an entire state just to get his way.

"Mayor Miller, I sincerely apologize. Our intent was not to disobey orders, we were just trying to cover all the angles and assist the FBI as best we could. We're not using any additional resources–"

"So explain to me how using officer Ford is not an additional resource? He could be out on the street, saving lives." Mayor Miller's eyes sparked with a ferocity that I wasn't sure I've ever seen before. And it angered me even more – why was he so against this? We were on the brink of finding his daughter's killer!

"Officer Ford is still a rookie, sir. His TO had been on leave so we considered using him while he was stuck at the station for the time being. He has been of great assistance, sir. Like Detective Carlin said, we've come as far as blurred mug shots – there is a ninety-nine percent chance that we will find a decent enough shot to build a suspect profile before the end of this week."

I watched Mayor Miller carefully as the information sunk in. He seemed increasingly worried that we were so close to finding the killer, but he hid it well with a fake, sad smile.

"I suppose I cannot fault you fine detectives for going the extra mile. Deputy Commissioner, Captain, I suggest we allow detectives Carlin and Pena to continue with the investigation until the end of this week. If nothing comes up by then, the FBI will collect the case file and footage and continue, so we can free up your detectives and rookie – I'm sure they have plenty other work to do."

Tanner smiled for the first time since Miller walked into our precinct. But his smile was short-lived as the lights flickered twice and the evacuation alarm went off.

I was well aware of the chaos outside the station; the people of LA hated their mayor and wanted him to step down and turn himself in for all the corruption he was involved in. If it wasn't for the Deputy Commissioner being in our presence today, this entire precinct would have handed his ass over to the crowds. Captain Tanner included.

But we loved – and needed – our jobs, so like sheep, we followed.

"Carlin, Pena, escort the Mayor and Commissioner to the back, I'll ensure their transport is ready. Grab my riot gear and go!"

It was a simple order. Tanner already wore his vest since he escorted the mayor inside on arrival; Carlos and I wasn't prepared at all. I was grateful for our Captain to think on his feet in this situation- it was the first time in my life since our home had been invaded. Surely the crowds were unarmed but you never know who hides between the masses to pull a trigger.

It reminded me of San Francisco, and I felt my blood run cold. It took a lot to scare me, but this situation did. I thought of my parents, the suffering they'd gone through, and I knew I couldn't become another statistic. In my opinion, the mayor's life was hardly worth risking my own, but it was something I had to do.

I swiftly moved towards the storage room at the back of Tanner's office – it was tiny, but it had what we needed. I grabbed four vests, the two polycarbonate shields, and two anti-riot helmets. We'd use the shields to create a path through the crowds – _if_ they were that deep inside the station – and pray that no-one had guns. I didn't mind suiting up the Deputy Commissioner, but if it was up to me, I'd let the mayor out without any protection.

"Thanks, Carlin," Carlos said, swiftly taking the vests from me.

I watched him suit up both the mayor and DC Kline, and then himself. After years of doing this, it was like breathing – I double checked that everybody was securely set with their vests, pulled the anti-riot mask over DC Kline's head, following unwillingly with Dan Miller, then lifted my shield and held it firmly in front of me, leading the way out of Captain Tanner's office.

For the briefest second my eye caught sight of a short brunette, and I remembered vaguely that I was supposed to meet up with Kyla Woods today, but my attention was soon back to the security detail behind me. The sooner we got rid of the mayor, the sooner we could focus on restoring peace at the station.

With a quick glance back, I realized the rioters had made their way behind the security check – they were already in the open plan office. It was utter chaos, and the only thing I kept thinking was that we probably had a gunman in our midst. And while the Mayor and Deputy Commissioner's faces were completely hidden behind the masks, it was quite obvious that the people we were escorting were VIP's.

Carlos moved beside them, blocking most of the view with his shield and his body, while I kept leading the way towards the back exit. It was eerily quiet as we made our way through the narrow hallway, past interrogation rooms, locker rooms, and into the holding cell section.

I was eternally grateful to see Captain Tanner next to a black SUV right inside the drop off bay, waiting for us to lead the VIP's to safety.

"Detectives, thank you. Captain Tanner, I will keep in touch. Kline, after you," Mayor Miller said smugly, opening the door for Deputy Commissioner Kline. I watched her quickly casting a glance at Carlos before disappearing into the SUV, followed by Dan Miller.

The door slammed shut, and seconds later tires squealed as the SUV disappeared out of the holding garage. And just as well, because the rioters have found their way through the station. We could hear them coming through the last set of doors, chanting, making an incredible noise as they swiftly filled the entire holding cell section. Gunshots started going off, and I felt that fear coursing through my veins again, praying that my parents would survive this if I didn't.

"Get down, get down!" I heard Carlos yell from behind me, Tanner echoing his words as he quickly dropped to the floor. I followed suit, keeping my eyes up to figure out who had been shooting. But the masses were dense and people were screaming and scurrying around, some diving for cover, others trying to outrun whoever was shooting.

"Detective Carlin! Are you alright?"

I watched Sebastian Ford ducking down next to me, excitement all over his face. He reminded me of myself during my first big incident when I was still a rookie; unaware of the real danger that loomed right within this room. While it was exciting for him, I was terrified, probably more than anyone else. Perhaps I should never have stopped going to my therapist.

"I got the perfect pictures! I know who killed the mayor's daughter!"

It should have been great news. I should have been excited with him. But he had no idea in how much danger we were.

There were still hordes of people around us, feet stomping over us on the floor as they tried to get away from the shooter. The shots reverberated deafeningly through the hollow garage area; the only thing that I could make out through the echoes were that whoever was shooting, they were aiming towards the roof.

I knew it wasn't an officer, they wouldn't ever do something so stupid, and if they did, they were trained to warn and shout out. Whoever this was, was definitely not a cop. And if they were aiming up, it meant that they didn't want to hurt civilians, they were looking for someone specific.

That knowledge was even more terrifying.

I didn't feel safe, despite my vest, at all.

"Keep down, Ford," I ordered the excited rookie.

"Did you hear me, detective Carlin? I know who the killer is! It's the girl on your wall– "

I've seen some pretty gruesome things in my life. As a cop, and ultimately a detective, I've come across some harrowing scenes that left me with an upturned stomach for days. The things I've had to witness, things I had to try and imagine afterwards, being a detective was definitely not a job for sissies. And given my family history, it was even more bizarre being right here in this moment, in this situation, witnessing a bullet ricochet off the roof and penetrating the back of the twenty-year-old's skull right in front of me.

* * *

"The suspect was apprehended, he's being held at 6th Division for questioning. Everybody's being reassigned to stations across town until our house is cleaned up and cleared."

I listened with half an ear as Carlos delivered the news two hours later.

I checked my watch, just to make sure, and realized it had only been two hours. It felt a lot longer, yet not long enough to distance myself from the terrifying moment of seeing a fellow officer get shot.

The hard plastic chair didn't do anything for comfort, and I shifted, trying to figure out how I got here.

"Any news yet?" Captain Tanner approached cautiously, hands full with a tray of paper coffee cups.

I didn't know if I'd ever be able to eat and drink again.

"Still in surgery. There's still hope," Carlos answered on behalf of me.

"Carlin, have you spoken to your parents yet?" Captain Tanner asked gently, sitting down beside me.

For grown men, we were being awfully emotional.

I shook my head, focusing on my shaking hands, trying hard to swallow back tears. I couldn't help but replay that moment in my head, over and over again. However sickening it was, it wouldn't stop. There were moments in between when I imagined being in San Francisco on that fateful day, wondering if it was the same type of fear that everyone was experiencing. And then I thought about _them_ , and I just couldn't.

The tears were rolling despite my effort not to cry, especially in front of my Captain and partner. I knew I was headed back to therapy and would probably be given some time off. Perhaps it was for the better. A man can only take so many devastating moments before he cracks. Maybe it was time to go and visit my parents and just bask in the comfort of their safety and love. Mom's hugs and Dad's coffee.

"Captain Tanner, good, you're here."

We all looked up, automatically on our feet as the surgeon in charge of Sebastian Ford's care walked towards us. Instinct told me to study his face, and I could see tired lines across his forehead, exhausted eyes, slumped shoulders, and definitely no smile as he removed the surgical face mask from his mouth.

My heart sank and my stomach churned for the umpteenth time. He was going to deliver the horrible news that we as police officers so often had to deliver to families as well. I just hoped that Tanner wouldn't ask me this time. I wasn't ready – there was no way I could tell Sebastian's family –

"I'm so sorry. The impact wasn't that severe since it was a stray bullet, but it still penetrated deep enough – after removing the bullet he just crashed. There was no way he would have survived even if we left it in."

I felt my legs give in, my body slumping back into the hard, uncomfortable chair. The tears were rolling down my cheeks faster than I could wipe it, and eventually I just left it, squeezing my eyes shut to block out everything around me.

"Thank you, Doctor. Officer Ford's family is on their way from San Diego, they should be here within two hours to take care of things. Is there anything you need from my detectives? I'd like to send them home – I will stay and wait."

"No, we'll wait for his family for any instructions onward. You're welcome to go to the cafeteria downstairs, I'm sure the seating is much more comfortable than these."

"Okay, good. Carlos, can you take Glen – "

I looked up, suddenly hyper aware of my surroundings. "No, I'd like to stay. He was under our supervision, I want to be here." I didn't know why I was punishing myself like this, but I couldn't just leave our Captain to deal with the aftermath himself.

"I want to stay too," Carlos confirmed, reaching out to pat my back firmly. "Let's go get you something sweet. You look like you're going to keel over."

* * *

 **Explain it to me – Liz Phair**


	41. When you're gone

**Lily Zee**

 **When you're gone**

 _"Look, the news is already out, so I knew we'd probably run into you. But I wanted to let you know personally – we'll give you an exclusive."_

My breath hitched, catching Jon's attention, but I placated her by signaling with my hand that everything was okay. _More_ than okay. This story could earn me an IRE award – something I'd been wanting to achieve ever since I was first drawn into investigative journalism.

It was true, however, that this wasn't all my doing – but I knew my helping hand had enabled Sean and his team to finally get their case overturned, and perhaps be granted an appeal to take it further. It's been a four-year long battle against the rogue politicians of our country.

I sat down at the edge of our bed, phone still clutched against my ear, listening as Sean gave me some inside information to guide my on-air interview. If they won this appeal… I'd finally get that promotion. I'd stand a chance to be nominated for IRE… Doors could open and Jon and I could finally put down a down payment for our own place.

 _"They're not allowing any small press inside, there's three or four big shots that will be taking photos, but interviews and anything else will be strictly outside the courthouse. So wait by the steps, we'll probably have to answer some questions, but the exclusive is yours. You've earned it as much as we did."_

The fact that I've put in an equal amount of work to expose the politicians went straight over my head. I was happy for my friends. I wanted them to succeed, whether that meant the same for me, I didn't really care. Jon would probably talk some sense into me soon, but now… I had to let this sink in. And I had to prepare!

 _"Just give me a call if you need any more info."_

The phone went dead in the palm of my hand, kind of like all rational brain cells in my head. This was big. _Huge_.

"Babe? Who was that?"

My eyes followed the contours of the wooden floor from my feet by the bed all the way to the door, leading me to a sight that stirred feelings deep within me. Leaning casually against the doorframe, dressed in nothing but a silky gown, was Jonica, a playful smirk on her face as she waited for me to react.

"That was, uhm, Sean. They're going to court in two days. The state may be granted an appeal, they might be taking this to D.C!" It started sinking in as I was saying it, the weight of my words hitting me hard. My hands were trembling – phone still in my left – and my heart was thumping wildly against my chest.

Jonica leaped into the room in two long strides, jumping into my lap like an excited puppy. "What? No way! Seriously?"

I watched her dark brown eyes light up, brightening everything else in the room. I loved when she got like this – Jonica was a very light spirit as opposed to my dark and truth-seeking soul. I guessed what they said about opposites attract was validated perfectly in our relationship.

"Yeah, seriously. You know what this means, right?" I felt like I had to remind her that going after the politicians wasn't always safe. I'd had a couple of close calls – and they even had the audacity to try and scare Jon once. But she couldn't care less – she put them in their place quite quickly.

"Don't be such a party-pooper Lil. They can try all they want, they won't hurt us. I won't allow it. You _deserve_ this babe, so stop fretting over it."

Of course, Jon was right. There wasn't really anything I could do, but I just couldn't stop worrying. Going after me was fine, I knew what I was dealing with. But when they messed with Jon… beside the fact that she came out of it untouched and brushed it off like it was nothing, I couldn't do that. It made my blood boil but at the same time it left me terrified.

I couldn't lose Jon. She was everything to me.

We were planning on buying a house together, starting a family… We'd come a long way since college where Jon still flirted with everything with a skirt.

I loved her. And the rings on our fingers was just a small drop in the ocean compared to what I felt for her. And I knew she felt the same, if not more, because –

"I'm so damn proud of you, Mrs. Zee. I know the perfect spot for that IRE award, and you are going to get it. Even if I have to steal it on awards night." Her playfulness was laced with a bit of seriousness, and finally she moved on my lap, swinging one leg over to straddle me, and stared me in the eyes.

I could see the sparkle in hers, the corner of her mouth slightly twitching with a smile – Jon's way of showing she was serious. She leaned in and planted a soft kiss on my lips, making me drop the phone on the hardwood floor without a care in the world.

* * *

"You know… I'm no pessimist, but if things doesn't go your way… you know I still want this, right? I told you – I'd take on some extra hours at the studio, or we can re-look at the mortgage terms and see if we can cover the down payment – "

And this was why I loved this woman so much. Giving her hand a tight squeeze as we followed the agent up the stairs of the spacious two-storey condo, I shook my head to indicate we'd discuss this without the agent listening in on our financial plans.

The condo was breathtaking, and with three bedrooms, it was perfect to start our little family. There was the master bedroom with an en-suite and small balcony, overlooking the backyard; and two smaller bedrooms – perfect for a studio and study, and of course, a nursery room.

We haven't even started with any baby-making plans, the house at the forefront of our minds since our tiny one-bedroom apartment in the city was becoming somewhat claustrophobic. Being two women with opposite type personalities under such a small roof proved catastrophic at times. Imagine one of us being pregnant and having to deal with each other in such a small space.

So we decided to find a bigger place first, get settled, and then start planning.

So far, so good.

I loved this condo. It was in a safe area, close to schools, close to a park, and the drive to work wouldn't be too disastrous. Jon would be close to home, close to the school; which was all the comfort I needed. I didn't mind traveling and traffic.

"So, what do you think?"

I hadn't realized that the agent had been discussing some minor repair work that had to be done before we could move in. Jonica looked at me expectantly, and I couldn't help but blush at my absentmindedness.

"I really like it," was all I could come up with, because, well, I did. The mortgage was affordable even if I didn't get a promotion, and without extra hours from Jon. We could easily afford the installments and live comfortably.

The only thing we didn't have was enough for the down payment. We'd have to save up for another two years to get there. And I couldn't wait anymore, I didn't _want_ to wait anymore. I was more than ready to start the new chapter in our lives.

"Can we negotiate the down payment amount in lieu of repairs that has to be done?" Jon tried, and to my utter relief – and ecstatic excitement – the agent agreed wholeheartedly.

Jon wasn't only talented with her hands in an artsy way – she was also my sweet little handyman. I knew she would be able to fix whatever needed fixing, thus saving us a hell of a lot of money.

"What do you think, babe? You want this place?" Jonica asked, her eyes bright with excitement. She wanted it as much as I did.

"I love this place. It's perfect."

"Fabulous. If you want, if you have the time, we can head over to my office to sign the purchase agreement. We can also quickly calculate the new down payment, and send everything through to your bank for approval?"

Our agent seemed as excited as we were. She knew we were going to start a family, and selling this cozy little place to us seemed to please her.

* * *

"Zee, my office, now."

I scanned the outline of my interview one last time before getting up with a heavy sigh. Dietrich Gruber sounded serious. And when Dietrich sounded serious, things generally were.

I wasn't sure if I was ready for whatever my boss had to throw on me – I'd been enjoying life just too much and was in such a great mood – which didn't happen often. Normally things were hectic at the office, everybody was serious and always on the run – to find new stories, to uncover more scandals, to get it all out before any other agencies did.

Despite all that, and having to deal with my own big story, I was in too good a mood to have it spoiled for me.

I got up reluctantly and made my way to my boss's office. He left the door open and was already seated; to my dismay, head of HR was seated with him.

This couldn't be good. When HR got involved… what the hell did I do?

My palms were sweaty and I could feel a slight tremble, my mind racing as I tried to remember if I'd pissed anyone off lately.

"Zee, sit."

For a guy in charge, Dietrich really lacked decent interaction skills. He always made people feel uneasy and scared of him.

I sat down in the leather chair next to Victoria Bryan, head of HR, and relaxed only slightly as she offered a reassuring smile. Maybe I _wasn't_ in trouble.

"I'm going to make this quick. I'm sure you already know you're assigned to the State versus Polit-Enterprises case tomorrow. Whether they're granted the appeal or not, we want to thank you for your outstanding work the past four years. Miss Bryan will present you with some paperwork to sign for a bonus, which you will receive by the end of this month, and an incentive structure should the case move ahead to D.C. I want you to cover it to the end; we will ensure you and your crew's travel and accommodation costs are covered. They will also receive incentives. Congratulations, Zee."

My mouth dropped open, my heart nearly stopped, and my eyes went wide.

Could life get _any_ better?

"Congratulations, Mrs. Zee. You can follow me to my office now so we can quickly get things sorted out," Victoria offered, standing up.

"Go on, I have work to do," Dietrich urged, and I recovered from the shock at his tone. What an ass – but an awesome ass at that. I had to phone Jon and tell her the good news! We were definitely celebrating, tonight, and tomorrow, right until we moved into our cozy new place and started our little family.

I leaped out of my chair and thanked my boss promptly, then followed Miss Bryan to her office with a joyful jump in my step.

* * *

"So… does this mean I get out of handyman duty?"

I chuckled and shook my head slightly. "Hell no, I love watching you at work. I didn't buy that outfit for nothing."

She shifted slightly on my chest, tracing throat, jaw and cheek with her finger. "For you, I'll wear it every day."

I smiled at the thought, imagining Jonica with her tool belt wrapped loosely around her waist, hammer in hand on the roof. Our new roof. We co-signed the purchase agreement at the bank minutes before they closed, with a copy of my bonus agreement serving as collateral for the down payment. We barely had to make a dent in our savings thanks to the generosity of one Mister Dietrich Gruber.

"Hmm… where's that sexy mind of yours at?" she purred, her mouth close to my ear.

Goosebumps covered my body and I shuddered, still way too sensitive to go at it again. We didn't even make dinner, having to cancel the reservation in between breathers.

"You and that tool belt. And our new place. I'm so excited, Jon." And I really was. I used to believe that having a career would be all the fulfillment I needed in life, but after Jon and I got married, my priorities shifted. I still worked hard as ever – I wanted that IRE award after all – but it didn't matter as much as coming home to a beautiful wife, and hopefully soon, a little one.

And the beauty of it all? Jonica was right in it with me.

"I'm excited too, babe. I can't wait to start picking out colors with you…" She planted a soft kiss in my neck. "And pick out a theme…" Another kiss, this time on my jaw. "The furniture…" On my cheek. "A name…" On my lips.

We ended up smooching for another ten minutes before I had to finally break it up. It was already after one AM, and I had my big day in a couple of hours.

"Sleep tight, babe," Jonica whispered, her hand resting protectively across my waist.

* * *

I waited right outside the courthouse, on the top steps, eager to know what was going on inside. My crew was right behind me, chatting excitedly with fellow crew members of other agencies; not concerned at all what today could mean for them. As an investigative reporter, this day meant _everything_ to me.

My attention was momentarily diverted from the glass doors of the courthouse at the beep of my phone, and I smiled, knowing it could only be Jonica. Or Sean. I fished my phone out of my pocket and promptly swiped over the screen to unlock it and read the message.

 **09:52AM – Jonica : IRE is YOURS babe. I love you. Let me know when you're done and meet me at home. I have a little something for you.**

My wonderful wife, always full of surprises. I smiled as I replied swiftly, not wanting to miss any action once those glass doors opened.

 **09:53AM – Lily : I love you too. Let's meet at 12. Wear your outfit.**

That seemed to please her to no end, and I couldn't help the smile cracking the make-up on my face. It would take a lot to make this smile and incredibly happy mood go away today.

The buzz of anticipation around me suddenly increased, and my attention was back on the glass doors, spotting Sean and his team approaching with huge smiles. It could only mean one thing – we were going to DC! I was ecstatic, not only for what it meant to me personally, but also for my friends, who could use some good news. One of them specifically. With all the good things happening in my own life, I'd forgotten how dire things were for others.

I was excited to do the interview right here and now, but was politely turned down, and agreed to postpone it for an hour. Which was perfect, really, since there were way too much excitement around us. I'd rather have us do this in private, and get the best exclusive and investigative reporter could ask for. "Give me a call in a bit, okay? We'll meet up somewh – "

My words froze mid-air, the same way my body just went rigid for a second at the deafening sound of gunshots. Then adrenaline kicked in, and I ducked down, curiosity kicking in. I was dying to know what was going on, what this was all about.

I felt safe enough on the ground and leopard-crawled my way around, meeting up with Sean and reuniting his team members.

Things happened incredibly fast. I could already hear sirens and it seemed like whoever was shooting, was moving along. There was still a lot of crossfire, I assumed police were already on the scene, and lifted my head occasionally to see if I could find anyone to talk to.

Uniformed police officers moved in quickly, and I took my chance.

"Lily Zee, I'm a reporter. May I ask what's going on?"

The officer was friendly enough to share what he knew despite the danger we were in. "Bank robbery gone wrong. They've got some of the suspects in custody as we speak. Please stay down, Miss."

I was content with this and knew that it was over when gunfire ceased, the deafening sound replaced by something more spine-chilling; the aftermath. I could hear people screaming, crying, wailing. There were definitely casualties.

I hoped my crew were all okay, and sent a quick text off to Dietrich, informing him of what happened. I knew he'd want me to keep reporting back to him, so I was probably going to be stuck here for the time being, and miss my date with Joni–

 _Jonica!_

My hands started shaking as I realized what happened, realized that I came out of this unscathed. With trembling fingers I dialed her number, tears thick in my throat as I told her I was okay and that I loved her.

For the first time since I met her, Jonica was completely freaked out. She wanted to come here, but I advised her against it; the police wouldn't let her come close to the crime scene and I didn't want her to see any of this, no matter how badly I just wanted to be in her arms right now.

I scanned the parking lot with a heavy heart, taking in the harrowing scene in front of me. There were a _lot_ of bodies. Some still moved, thankfully, but I knew others were not as lucky.

Sean had taken charge of his group and ordered his team to go home and seek counseling. I joined them, wanting to reschedule the interview for much later, knowing there would be no celebrations tonight.

Definitely not for Sean, as he unexpectedly hit the ground with a force, and soon after – _Oh God_.

 _No, no, no_ this couldn't be happening! More gunshots, more blood, more casualties!

This time I couldn't get my body to react as I stared at the people I had grown so close to after working with them for the past three years, lying on the ground, blood spurting from their bodies. Bile rose up in my throat, and I turned, trying to figure out where these shots came from. It wasn't loud like the others – in fact, it was silent. Too silent. Like assassination silent.

I too, felt it, moments after watching my friends go down.

There was a tingling feeling right in the middle of my forehead, spreading through my veins like a wildfire. It numbed me, making my legs give in, laying me down on the asphalt next to my friends.

It was so quiet. So quick. So unfair.

Jonica and I was about to move house. Start a family.

I wanted to hug her, hold her, run my hands through her shaggy short hair, tease her for wearing her tool belt and being my handyman.

I wanted Jonica.

I felt tears but my limbs were too heavy to wipe at them.

Jonica.

I wanted my Jonica.

* * *

 **When you're gone – Avril Lavigne**


	42. 42

**A/N: Halfway there! Thanks to all the readers still sticking to this fic!**

 **GirlsOnly – CH40 : Some of your questions will be answered in this chapter; I'm sorry (not sorry!) for the cliffhangers, but it's just the way it has to happen! ;) Thank you for the compliment on CH40, I know there's a lot happening and it will continue like that for a couple more chapters before the story starts winding down. Thank you so much for reading and reviewing!**

 **TheDWall – CH40 : I'm glad you were happy that I updated, I'm really also wanting to put everyone out of their misery hehe. About the Carlin family connections, be patient, dear reader, answers are coming ;) Thank you for the compliment on my writing and plot idea, it is much appreciated!**

 **TheDWall – CH41 : I'm hoping this update will put a huge smile on your face ;) And yes, the pattern should be somewhat obvious by now so your hunch about the additional ghost – let me just say it will be revealed in this chapter. There are a lot of elements that still need to come together in this story, hence all the chapters, but I'm thankful that you're still reading and reviewing! Enjoy!**

* * *

 **Ashley**

 **42**

I couldn't remember the last time I was this drunk. _So_ drunk that the world was spinning _behind_ closed eyelids, nausea pushing up into my throat, head throbbing ridiculously painful, starting from my forehead right into my skull, and a terrible tremble that did nothing to heat up my sweaty but frozen body.

A soft beep became increasingly annoying, ultimately forcing me to open my eyes and locate the source. All I wanted to do was sleep more, sleep forever maybe.

But that damn annoying beep…

I found myself in a dimly lit room, walls dull and undecorated, no sunshine streaming through blinds due to lack of windows –

Wait, this wasn't my room!

I sat upright with a jolt, regretting it instantly – apparently projectile vomiting was a real thing for adults. It was disgusting, and agonizingly painful. And it kept going. It was wet and watery and tasted like metal, making me gag, and as a result, vomit even more. All over the heavy white sheet supposedly there to keep me warm, over the edge of the disturbingly high bed, and like a spewing water fountain, all over the laminated floor.

I could barely breathe. Everytime I tried, I gagged, starting the process all over again. Whatever was happening caused the annoying beep to increase speed, but there was little I could do about that while I was well on my way to cough up my organs through my throat.

At first I thought the figure that appeared in the door would come and help – but who was I kidding, this was utterly disgusting – and when I stole glances in between choking desperately for clean air, my blood froze in my veins.

"They told me that you were okay, but clearly you're far from it. I'm sorry for your suffering, Ashley."

She had straight jet black hair, her eyes dark and beautifully shaped, like the rest of her smooth skinned body. Malaysian-Chinese descent came to mind but I wasn't too sure. My mind was more occupied with the inability to take deep breaths without swallowing metal-tasting bile.

The girl took two steps into the room, her expression somewhat concerned. "I'd call a nurse for you, but they can't exactly see me."

There was enough light above her for me to make out who it was. Tears streamed down my cheeks as I fought hard to breathe, black spots forming in the corners of my eyes. The throbbing headache turned into a searing pain shooting through my forehead. My ears were ringing and that _fucking_ annoying beep –

"Miss Davies!" The new voice was a silhouette against the dim light, becoming a diminishing shadow in my rapidly declining vision. "We need help in here!"

The girl was gone, unsurprisingly. But it was devastating to see her, devastating to know what I have done, how much pain I must have caused her wife who was ready to build a future and family with her.

Several other voices echoed through the room, but I could hardly see.

And just as well, because I wasn't fond of needles – and whoever stabbed one unceremoniously into my arm had just come off scot-free of a hard shove. Or a fist to the face. Whichever was possible, because suddenly my arms felt like lead, and my neck became stiff, inducing even more panic.

Strong hands pushed me back down on the bed, followed by hands on my face which I could barely feel anymore, and as if the vomiting and gagging weren't enough, I now had to endure something slowly being pressed up my nose. It drove me completely insane; I wanted to jump up, scream, fight them off, but whatever they were pushing through my nose continued down my throat and I couldn't suppress the urge to vomit even more.

Tears kept streaming down my cheeks despite unable to see anything. I wasn't sure whether I'd gone blind or my eyes were closed. Not that it mattered – I'd rather die than live this nightmare any further.

The urge to fight off the horrific intrusion soon dissipated as it became easier to breathe – _much_ easier – I gasped and gulped up the cold air filling one nostril and a severely dry and itchy throat. I never even noticed when the vomiting stopped.

Neither did I notice that the annoying beep faded slowly, together with the voices around me, soon becoming nothing but a soft blur until there was just… _nothing_.

* * *

I was extremely disappointed when I came to; part of me hoped that I'd never wake up again. Squinting against the dim lights above me, I found myself in the same place I was before – well, before I lost consciousness, after donating half my body mass through liquid vomiting. I was still not entirely sure where exactly I was, but judging by the prickling feeling starting in my nose running all the way through my throat to who-knows-where, cold air blasting into my mouth, and that damn annoying beep, creating sound waves through my sensitive ears only to end up as a dull thumping in my head, I had a hunch that I was in a hospital.

The boring walls and sterile room may also have given it away.

A bitter taste presented itself in my mouth when I also realized I had seen the ghost Lily Zee, another one of my so-called victims.

A familiar sting shot through my forehead, forcing me to squeeze my eyes shut against the pain, small tears escaping through the sides of my eyelids.

"Ashley, are you okay?"

That caring, gentle, male voice sounded incredibly familiar.

I was torn between sobbing myself back to sleep and opening my eyes to see who it was.

"You can't speak, so just nod once if you're okay?"

 _Can't speak? What –_

That thing in my nose, in my throat… heavy – and somewhat restricted – arms lifted towards my face to feel tubes and something over my mouth; it was alarming and I was freaking out, _again_.

My eyes shot open but this time I couldn't bolt upright, something across my chest and biceps held me firmly in place. With great effort and some trepidation I turned my head slightly towards the source of the voice, my eyes filling with tears once again when I realized who was sitting next to my bed.

At least this time it was happy tears – I've never been so relieved before as I stared at Doctor Arthur Carlin, his face scrunched up in a concerned frown as he studied me patiently.

He reached out carefully, his fatherly hand resting on my forearm, I guess it was his way to try and calm me down.

"Can you nod for me if you're okay?" he repeated, gently giving my arm a squeeze.

I wanted to nod so badly for him, but I was far from okay. I had no idea what happened, how I got here, or what was going on. I was terrified and felt broken at the same time. So instead of nodding, I finally shook my head, a soft wail escaping my closed up throat, tears rolling down my cheeks into my neck and finally onto the pillows.

"Okay, shh, it's going to be okay. We'll take good care of you. I'm going to explain to you what happened, but I need you to stay calm and relaxed, Ashley."

It seemed like an impossible task, my chest and fists clenching tightly as I sobbed silently into the contraption over my mouth. I desperately wanted to know what happened, but I wasn't sure if I was ready for what lay ahead of me.

"Are you in pain? Do you need anything?" Doctor Carlin asked carefully, his eyes trained on my facial expression for a response.

I _was_ in a lot of pain; emotionally I was devastated and it exceeded the physical pain by miles. I eventually shook my head, hiccupping through the mask on my face as I tried to calm myself down.

He gave my arm another squeeze and leaned forward in his chair, taking a deep breath before he started. "Do you remembering anything? Do you know how you got here?"

I tried to, I really did, but it felt like I had gone through another memory wipe.

Doctor Carlin nodded as I shook my head once again, removing his hand from my arm to grab the pen sticking out of the front pocket of his white overcoat. He scribbled something on what I assumed was a file on his lap before he continued.

"You were at a diner with a friend, and had a seizure. They called an ambulance and they brought you here. By then you've lost consciousness a couple of times, so I knew it had something to do with the head injury you sustained when you got run over by that drunk driver. We did a vascular MRI and what we could pick up is that there is swelling of the tissue covering your brain." He paused and studied me carefully as I tried to digest all of this.

It was going to take a while. Everything felt hazy and I just could not remember.

"Also, alcohol poisoning… the tube in your nose goes down your throat all the way into your stomach to assist getting medication there to stop the nausea and to rehydrate you. This really shouldn't have happened – _ever_." I cringed at his frustrated tone.

"Look, Ashley, I'm in no position to tell you what to do, but as your physiatrist and therapist, I can't help but be deeply disappointed. You've skipped out on our appointments for almost two months; then the alcohol consumption which could have killed you – you shouldn't even be drinking for at least another year. Head injuries are not something you play with, and recovery should be taken very seriously. Have you had any more hallucinations?"

His words stung. I stopped listening at the mention of _disappointed_ , feeling like I let him down so badly. My irresponsible actions rested heavily on my shoulders, and once again I couldn't stop the tears.

I nodded for the first time since our one-sided conversation started, waiting in anxious melancholy as I watched his reaction.

Doctor Carlin sighed heavily, his eyes sad as he stared at me. "You should have come to me. I want to help you, Ashley. But you have to _let_ me."

He didn't sound angry or upset, he sounded dejected and tired, _disappointed,_ and extremely caring and tender. I felt like I was being reprimanded like a small child, but at the same time being told that I was loved. It was confusing, pulling more tears from me, my emotions raw like an open wound. My body shook with sobs, and I cried muffled apologies through the tube down my throat and mask covering my mouth. He couldn't understand me, but he understood my body language.

His strong, protective hand reached towards mine, giving it a tight squeeze. "I'm here to help you, and I won't let anything happen to you."

But here's the thing; stuff _already_ happened. I was in a hospital, strapped down to a bed with a nasogastric tube down my nose, an oxygen mask pulled over my face, needles in my arm, a BCI clip on one finger and patches on my chest, all feeding information to the ECG machine generating that terribly annoying _beep_. I had no recollection of me actually landing up here, or the so-called diner and friend I was with when everything happened. There was another ghost on my list, and I had _no_ idea how to fix this without destroying myself in the process.

So, things _already_ happened to me; things that Doctor Carlin could not in a million years help me with. He could help me get better to walk out of here, but whatever was happening to me was going to follow me around the same way I was stuck with Halloween every day of the year.

I sighed despondently, praying for a miracle. _Anything_ would do at this stage. I just needed a little help, some advice, or at the very least, someone who could reassure me that everything would be okay – even if it _wasn't_ going to be.

* * *

I had no idea how long I've been sleeping, or how long I've been in this room – this _hospital_ – but the next time I opened my eyes, I was grateful to be able to do that.

My senses tingled first; I felt a familiar, cool, soft hand holding mine, soothing my racing thoughts to complete calmness. I felt the serenity around me, like a soft, white cloud hanging in the air above me.

My sight caught up moments later, eyes focusing on the form next to me. I noticed blonde hair and the most beautiful blue eyes I've ever seen. Emotions flashed through them like an out-of-control showreel. Tears were shimmering on the bottom eyelids, building up and ready to spill onto soft, smooth cheeks.

I wanted to move my hand, to reach out and wipe those sad tears away, but my arms were still restricted, and all I could do was bask in the comfort the hand over mine offered.

"Ashley?" She seemed to have withdrawn out of her daze, her eyes clearly focused on me, the slight threat of tears still there.

I offered a smile to cheer her up, but my mouth was hidden underneath the mask that supplied oxygen to my body. As much as it was bothersome, I didn't want to go without it. Not while this incredibly beautiful girl was sitting right next to me.

Her spirit seemed to lift marginally, expressing itself on her face, presenting me with a small smile and hope in her eyes. She leaned closer, one hand still on mine, the other reaching towards my head, brushing strands of hair from my face. Her touch was soft but electrifying.

"I know you can't talk right now, but I'm so happy to see you," she whispered tearfully. "They wouldn't allow me in so I snuck past the nurses' station, so I have to keep my voice down."

I chuckled silently at the thought, my heart bursting with gratitude as I stared at her. She looked so familiar, but I couldn't get myself to remember past the first time I woke up in this place. I wished I couldn't remember my ghosts either.

"Do you remember what happened?" the girl asked, and then, "I'm so sorry, you can just nod. Or does that hurt too much?"

I offered another smile, forgetting that she couldn't see it, and shook my head. It _did_ hurt, but if I was careful I hardly felt it.

"I heard the nurses talking; they said you have swelling on the brain?" She was uncertain, almost asking _me_ to validate what she had heard.

I nodded slowly, my heart sinking as I watched sadness wash over her.

"So uh… you can't remember anything?"

Her hand was clasping tighter over mine as she waited in fear for me to confirm that I didn't remember her. I could see it in her eyes, raw emotion as she waited, her face scrunched up, her neck and shoulders stiff as she held her breath.

I felt terrible for doing this, but I didn't want to lie to her.

I nodded slowly, my heart breaking in the process as I watched her eyes fill up with the tears that had been threatening to spill ever since I woke up. A few drops touched her cheeks, and she swallowed hard, trying to keep it in.

I gave her hand a squeeze, trying to tell her that everything would be okay. I wasn't sure whether this was permanent, but I would do anything to try and remember her. And if that never happened… I'd do anything to get to know her.

"It'll be okay," I squeaked out through the mask, the pain unbearable as my throat moved against the tube.

"No, don't talk, you're going to hurt yourself!" the blonde cautioned me, my muffled reassurance lost in translation.

It was loud enough for the nurse passing by to stop in her tracks and poke her head through the half ajar door. When she saw the girl, her eyes went wide and she stepped into the room completely, arms folding over her chest.

"What did I tell you about visiting Miss Davies? Only family is allowed, missy. You're going to have to leave before I call security."

"She doesn't _have_ any family," the girl retorted desperately, almost _angrily_ , more tears dropping from her eyes. The plastic chair scraped against the floor as she stood up and pushed it back, involuntary causing me to flinch at the noise in my ears.

Her hand was still on mine as she stood there, challenging the nurse to do something.

It took only a minute of intense staring before the nurse relented. " _Fine_. Ten minutes, then you better be gone. Or security _will_ come get you."

I watched the blonde smirk in satisfaction as the nurse turned around to leave.

When she faced me again, a slight blush tinted her cheeks. "I'm so sorry," she apologized, sinking back down on the chair. "I didn't mean to – "

I interrupted her by means of a tight squeeze and shaking my head. She had nothing to apologize for. In fact, _whoever_ she was, I wanted her to stay forever.

* * *

It came to me moments after they removed the tube from my nose. The relief was indescribable; nothing tickled the rawness of my throat anymore, and the tingling feeling in my nose lessened remarkably. But it wasn't _that_ that had me so happy.

I glanced over at the sleeping blonde who had been sneaking in the past couple of days, sitting by my side for hours on end, entertaining me with memories of what we had been up to the past two months.

Her name was on my lips, and I whispered it softly, trying not to put too much strain on my raw throat.

Her head jerked up from her folded arms resting on the side of my bed, her eyes wide as she stared at me.

I smiled at her reaction and repeated her name hoarsely.

"You remember!" she exclaimed, her eyes filled with happy tears. I haven't seen her cry in a while, but _this_ , I could handle.

"Shh," I chuckled, cautious about Spencer being caught again. I didn't want them to put a guard at my door to stop her from visiting me.

"You remember my name," she repeated softly, the tears flowing like a stream after heavy rains. This time I was able to swipe my thumb over her cheek, urging her to stop crying.

"They're happy tears," she assured me, her smile contagious as she stared at me.

I kept my hand up, cupping her cheek, my heart beating hard against my chest as she leaned into my touch. I could vaguely remember Spencer kissing me in the door of my condo, and our kiss on the beach, longing to have her soft lips on mine again. Our eyes locked and I was unable to look away, lost in the emotions reflecting in hers.

It took me right back to that ledge, white fluffy clouds around us. _Spencer_ -heaven. And she was right there, staring at me, her face inching closer.

Until the clouds disappeared and fireworks exploded as her lips finally connected with mine. At the back of my mind I was grateful that the heart monitor had been disconnected, because what I felt now would have summoned nurses and doctors within seconds. And I didn't want this to ever end.

She was careful, gentle, hands reaching for my face as hers lowered, lips lingering on mine until I kissed back with fervor. I didn't care that my throat hurt and my head was aching dully at the movements. I didn't care that my lips were somewhat chapped – it looked like Spencer didn't either – I didn't care that we could get caught any moment.

All I wanted was for her to keep kissing me, soothing away all the fears and insecurities and darkness around my soul. I wanted to keep kissing her so she could know that I was falling for her – _hard_. And I wanted to keep falling, because with Spencer, I felt safe. _Loved_ , even. It was a strong word, but her actions and persistence and her soft, delicate lips convinced me that there was hope after all.

Spencer could possibly be that miracle I prayed for. I'd believe her if she told me everything would be okay… even if it wasn't.

" _Hey!_ What are you doing?"

The unwanted, unexpected, and definitely unannounced shriek from the door made us both jump, my heart aching at the loss of Spencer's touch.

We looked up guiltily at the same nurse who had threatened to have Spencer thrown out days ago. It looked like she was about to follow through with that threat.

"What are you _doing_ here? Have I not told you – " the nurse started, one foot out the door, ready to call security.

Spencer was fast on her feet. With a chaste kiss on my mouth, she whispered softly only for me to hear. "I'll be back, I promise. Get better, okay?"

I watched her sidestep the nurse who clumsily tried to block the door, then her blonde head bobbed up and down as she sprinted past my room, only part of her visible through the blinds.

I missed her already.

"This was the last straw, Miss Davies," the nurse let out frustratingly, her breath leaving her as she watched Spencer go.

I couldn't help but chuckle, hoping I'd remember this day forever.

* * *

Or not.

I got bored after Spencer left and dozed off, only to wake up with six unwelcome guests waiting patiently for me to return to reality.

Four of them looked extremely pissed.

Madison looked apologetic, while Lily seemed confused.

"Ashley, I hope you don't mind, but we need to talk," Lily spoke up. "There must've been some kind of mistake, and I need to get back to my wife."

"Yeah, _not_ gonna happen," Kelly snorted.

Lily ignored her and kept her sad, unsure gaze on me, eyes pensive and full of questions. "Is that true?"

* * *

 **42 - Coldplay**


	43. Secrets

**A/N: Can I just say that you have all been pretty amazing for keeping up with the kind reviews and waiting (im)patiently for updates… For a sadly dwindling fandom the reactions and followers and readers throughout this journey of a fic have been spectacular! I feel like I've been cheating on this fic because I joined Nanowrimo but let me reassure you even** ** _that_** **has taken the backseat to a semi hectic schedule at the moment. Anyway, there's only about 6 weeks left in this year and I still have approximately 37 chapters to go! What do you all say… think I can make it? ;)**

* * *

 **GirlsOnly – CH42 : I'm back :) I'm glad you like the Spashley scenes, they will become more frequent and Spencer's character will develop some more in the following chapters. There's also a lot of drama and suspense awaiting us, but I'm sure you know that already with all the ghosts pestering Ashley! I'm glad you're nervous and excited – you have reason to be! Thank you for reading and reviewing!**

 **ToriDub – CH42 : Do not fear, I am continuing with this fic :) The end is already written – and I'm just as anxious to get there! You've got a lot of questions that I really,** ** _really_** **want to answer, but the only way I can do that is by keeping quiet and keep you reading :P So without further ado, here's the next chapter :) Thanks for adding the fic as a favorite, and thank you for reading and reviewing!**

 **ToriDub – CH19 : It always makes me happy to see a new reader has taken on this confusing story ;) And I may have done a small happy dance when you said you're hooked! It's not my intention to keep the readers in suspense, but the nature of this story just so happened to work out that way. It's the very first time in my life I've done something like this – the ghosts, the suspense, and even all the detail! There's a great amount of research that's gone into this story, surprising both myself and the people I tell about it (those are the ones I fear might one day discover my scary browser history!) Writing for a living almost falls into my line of work and dreams, but not quite like this ;) Medical mysteries are awesome, I have to agree with that. I don't have non fanfic stories ready for publishing (yet), but if you're on Wattpad, I'll be working on future works that's non-Spashley related over there, under the same name CarsGirlsandMusic – the profile is up but it's still empty for now (I might publish my Nanowrimo entry there after November), but I'm still very attached to SoN. Thank you so much for reading and reviewing!**

 **Redess89 – CH42 : Another new reader! It's really making me so happy to know there's still a SoN following :) I'm sorry I couldn't post this chapter right away as requested, but I won't abandon the fic – my goal is to have it finished by the end of this year. Thank you for reading and reviewing!**

 **Lauren – CH42 : Thank you so much for the kind words and compliments :) Ashley will eventually find her way out of the mess she's in… I still have about 37 chapters for her to figure out how ;) I'm glad you're loving the Spashley moments, there will be more of them! Thank you for reading and reviewing!**

 **Anjela78 – CH42 : I'm glad my story is bringing forth so many emotions, it's what I aim for! Hope you're still keeping well :) Thank you for reading and reviewing!**

 **K1989 – CH42 : That was a nice reaction to read ;) Spencer's character will develop a little more as we go along with the next couple of chapters, where you may or may not learn more about her family too… I'd love to tell you all about it, but in the form of writing… in chapters ;P Thank you for reading and reviewing!**

 **TheDWall – CH42 : I'm glad you loved the update, sorry it's taken so long once again! I see everyone is quite curious about the Ashley-Kelly-Spencer triangle and what's going to come of it!**

 **I feel like an evil puppet-master knowing I'm keeping you all in suspense regarding that one! Unfortunately only time will tell – keep on reading to find out ;) Thank you for reading and reviewing!**

 **Alister Von – CH42 : Thank you for the compliment and for your suggestion! The song is absolutely a brilliant choice, and though I cannot promise anything, I will try and squeeze it in somehow. The chapters have been pre-plotted, but I've been changing things around as I go along. So, no promises, but I'll try! Once again, thank you! Thank you for reading and reviewing!**

* * *

 **Ashley**

 **Secrets**

I stared at Lily, trying not to notice the hope in her eyes that I would tell her otherwise. I tried not to notice the sadness either; a sadness that I wasn't entitled to know – a sadness that no-one should ever feel for me. After all this time, with all these ghosts appearing, I never realized how much I _didn't_ want it to be true in this heartbreaking moment.

Someone was going to get hurt, and I always, somehow, ended up getting hurt _with_ them.

Not that I didn't deserve it - it was just becoming more difficult to consume _all_ my ghosts' and their loved ones' pain. Like a sponge, trying to soak it all up.

I let out a long, tired breath. Without meeting her eyes, my voice cracked. "I'm sorry Lily."

Her response was unexpected. "No! I don't believe you!"

My head snapped up, eyes meeting hers in surprise. I wished she didn't have to make it harder than it already was. Shaking my head, I bit back the pain and agony. "I _am_ so-"

"You're _not_ sorry, Ashley."

Kelly's voice was bitter and filled with deep resentment I haven't heard from her before. I wanted to retort, but the apology and excuses died in my throat as I scanned the ghosts' faces.

They looked irate. Unforgiving. And _really_ pissed at me. All except Madison, who for some reason just looked sad.

"I was going to propose to my girlfriend the day you shot me Ashley. Lily was about to start a family with her wife. Sasha was graduating _high_ _school_. Madison had worked her entire life to make her dreams come true and she was weeks away from it when you pulled that trigger on her. Did you think _sorry_ was going to make it all better? Did you think if you ran off with your new little girlfriend that we'd just sit back and let you enjoy _your_ life while _our_ loved ones suffered? We ought to take _your_ girlfriend away from you, will _that_ make you get it in that thick skull of yours that _sorry_ just won't do?"

There was an immediate pressure in my chest, and a sharp pain, unlike anything I've ever experienced before. It was worse than the sting in my forehead every time I denied my ghosts' existence. I shifted nervously on the hospital bed, uncomfortable under the stare of these angry ghosts. What Kelly said was the truth of course, but my concern was aimed at the safety of the blonde who'd been holding me together for the past few months. I hated that they now knew about her, and probably knew what she looked like, where she lived, where she was right now…

A thin layer of sweat broke out on my forehead. I wasn't strapped down anymore but there was no way I could dash out of here to protect Spencer while six angry ghosts easily had a head start on me.

"Ashley… you know what to do…" Aiden finally piped up. I was surprised to hear him speak at all; he'd been avoiding me ever since he found out I was seeing someone. Someone that was a girl. Someone that wasn't _him_.

And while I enjoyed and appreciated his radio silence, I still needed him. I hated that I did. I hated the situation I was in.

"What does she need to do? Can I go back to-"

"No, Lily. You _can't_ go back - _ever_. You're dead. You're a ghost, and you're stuck in Ashley's twisted life until she sets you free into the afterlife. But here's the thing… Ashley doesn't have a conscience, and she doesn't care about anyone but herself. She's a cold-blooded murderer and-"

" _Enough_ , Kelly."

I stared in awe at Madison, her hand pressed right up into Kelly's face. I didn't deserve her standing up for me, but I was grateful that the raven-haired girl's voice grated her as much as it did me.

"Upsetting Ashley is only going to prolong us being stuck here. And stop with the insults already. We know _sorry_ won't change things, but give her a break why don't you?"

"Give her a _break?_ Are you kidding me? Why are you taking her side, Madison? She can't fuck you while you're a ghost, so what is it that she's doing for you?"

"She's not doing anything for me. But I can accept an apology when it's given to me, why can't you? She's suffering as much as we are-"

I couldn't hear the slap but was astounded to see Kelly's hand make contact with Madison's face. Sean reached out and pulled Kelly back while Aiden and Sasha reached for Madison.

"Can all if you just stop this fighting, please?" Lily begged.

I could only stare at them. My jaw felt unhinged and my heart beat wildly against my chest. There were only two things I knew for certain: I had to protect Spencer, and I had to get rid of these ghosts. And _fast_.

The decision was made before I even had time to think it over. "Alright! That's enough! I'll do it!"

"Do what… exactly?" Lily asked cautiously.

I ignored Lily, fixing a hard gaze towards Kelly. I couldn't wait to get rid of her. "You're first. I already told you I want to know who you've been pissing off. If you don't cooperate, you'll be stuck here for much longer and I'll be sure to make your visit to my twisted life extra fun. Your choice."

Kelly rolled her eyes but when she crossed her arms over her chest I knew this was still a touchy subject for her. A touchy subject which I was going to use to my advantage. I was done with this ghost being such a bitch. "Fine, whatever."

"Wait, can someone please tell me –" Lily asked, confusion written all over her face.

"Ashley killed you, Lily. And the only way for you to be released is if Ashley kills whoever put the hit on you," Sean explained, exasperated. "We weren't killed by those bank robbers. It was no accident."

For the first time since she appeared, Lily seemed to finally get it. She looked at me, her eyes meeting mine, and I felt utterly ashamed of myself.

"How long has this been going on? How long have you all been here?" Her reporter instincts kicked in, and I appreciated for a moment that Lily could possibly be very resourceful to find out who ordered hits on them.

"A couple of months," Aiden replied sadly. I hated that he sought sympathy and that he was getting it!

"Aiden has been here the longest. Ashley's only let one of us go," Sasha continued. She reached out for the TV remote, making herself comfortable just like the first time.

It was a disturbing realization, that I was stuck in hospital, again. There was no way to get rid of the ghosts unless someone came by or I was asleep. I was torn between wishing Spencer wouldn't leave my side, and the ghosts' threats on her life. _Kelly's_ threat on her life. It was obvious that she had to go next. I had to protect Spencer at all cost.

"Yeah, what made Boz so special, anyway? Why did he get to go first?"

"Boz? Boz _Anderson_?" Lily asked, shocked when I could only nod in confirmation. She turned to face Sean. "Your _cousin_ , Boz?"

Sean was unforgiving when he spoke. My ghosts' emotions were on a rollercoaster ride the same mine had been lately. But I could handle myself – I knew where I stood with myself. Sean and Sasha, who had been placid and understanding the entire time, were turning out to hate me more and more ever since the morning Madison came into the picture. I could hear the venom in his voice. "Yes, my cousin, Boz. Shot in the forehead, right in front of Tracy and Tucker."

Lily's mouth dropped open, her eyes wide with terror as her attention was back on me again. Aside from being in a terrible spotlight, it was becoming increasingly alarming that all my ghosts were somehow connected. They either knew each other or knew _of_ each other.

"Look – "

"This is not over, Davies. We'll be back," Kelly interrupted hastily, her eyes sweeping over the room before she spared a last glance at me. "I'll be digging. I'm going to find out who your little girlfriend is, and I'm going to start digging her grave for you if you don't get us out of here soon."

I didn't take her threat lightly. The ghosts may have been mellow all this time, but their rising anxiety had me uneasy for unexplained reasons.

"Ashley! It's good to see you. A bit pale I see, but otherwise, how are you feeling?"

I swallowed at the lump in my throat, grateful for Arthur's untimely visit.

* * *

"So, I've been informed that you have a visitor that's been sneaking in. A friend of yours?"

Just the thought of Spencer made me forget about the pressure of everything around me. Despite the growing tension between the ghosts and my worst fear that they'd go after her, I couldn't help the shy smile that curved my lips.

Arthur beamed positively at this news. He scribbled something in the file he had open on his lap, the smile never leaving his own face.

"I'll be sure to tell the charge nurse that it's okay for her to come see you. As often as you want, Ashley. This really is good news. Is it the same friend from the diner, can you remember more of the details now?"

I nodded, wondering for the umpteenth time where in my life had I gotten to the stage for everything to have gone so wrong. I dared to imagine what it would have been like to have met Spencer under better circumstances, what it would have been like not to worry about anything, especially not death and ghosts. I wondered if our paths would still have crossed and if I'd still feel her pain so deeply as I did now. I wondered what it would have been like if she'd not lost her girlfriend – and never met her at all. The answer was simple. We probably would never have met.

"Ashley?"

Arthur waited patiently, his tired face still sporting a smile albeit somewhat concerned about my silence.

"Oh, uh, yeah," I cleared my throat, forcing myself back to that dreadful morning. It started at my condo already, with the dreaded hangover, with Madison appearing. With me finding out I killed her out of fear, borne into me by Aiden – someone I should have realized by now I couldn't trust at all. A shiver ran down my spine at the possibility that he was hiding a lot more from me. "I uh, it was a rough night. I woke up with a hangover. We went for pancakes at this diner, and I just felt… I don't know. It felt like I was there but not. Like I was floating, almost. My head felt really fuzzy and I didn't even realize my nose was bleeding. Until I did, and tried to get up, and went down instead."

Arthur nodded while he listened and scribbled some more into my file. "When you felt fuzzy like that, do you remember if you knew your surroundings?"

I squeezed my eyes shut, recalling the clouds, Spencer's face, her smile, and then the terror in her eyes. "Not all the time. Before it all happened I didn't. My skin started tingling, like a prickling sensation, and then I knew for a second where I was before I passed out."

"Tell me about your friend." Arthur closed the file on his lap, tucked his pen into the chest pocket of his shirt, and leaned back into the hard visitor's chair, changing roles from the amazing doctor he was to an even more amazing person; someone to talk to. A fatherly figure. Another friend. "I saw just a hint of happiness on your face when we spoke about... her? I presume? Let's talk about what makes you _happy_."

This I could do. I could feel the promise of a smile tugging at my lips again when I thought about the blue-eyed blonde. I thought about the way her own face lit up the day I woke her to tell her I remembered her. Almost as if I really did mean something to someone in this lonely world. The image of that hopeful smile, blue eyes shimmering with tears was ingrained in my memory, something I treasured more and more lately. The ability to remember was precious, the ability to recall anything Spencer-related was what got me through every day.

"See? There's that smile again. Maybe I don't have to be so worried about you after all," Arthur chuckled.

I appreciated the gesture. Knowing he was worried meant he also cared. It was a warming thought.

"Doctor Carlin?" The charge nurse who kept kicking Spencer out stuck her head in the door, concern written all over her face. Had she not looked so worried, I'd rub it in that she couldn't kick my _friend_ out anymore. But something told me she didn't have good news; she had a phone clutched to her chest and she cleared her throat when Arthur turned to frown at her. "I'm terribly sorry to interrupt. But your son is on the phone and he's hysterical. We told him you're with a patient, but I think it's better you speak to him."

Arthur turned to me apologetically, but I offered him a supportive smile. "I'll be right here. Go, talk to your son."

"Thank you miss Davies, and I apologize for interrupting," the nurse offered once doctor Carlin stepped out.

I was close to rubbing it in again, but stopped myself, not wanting to make enemies with more of the living too. "No problem. Just uh, just one thing. You're not allowed to kick Spencer out anymore. If you have a problem, you can clear it with doctor Carlin."

"I've been notified. I'll be sure to inform all the night staff as well."

I was expecting an apology but it never came. Instead my pillows were fluffed and a brief vital check was done before the nurse promptly left the room.

I sighed and plopped back with a huff, deciding another nap was in order before more pressing matters had to be thought through.

Spencer's safety depended on me. And I'd be damned if I let Kelly find out who she was and get to her.

* * *

 **Secrets – OneRepublic**


	44. Riddles

**A/N: So… surprise!**

 **ToriDub – CH43 : I don't think you understand how excited I was to finally post a chapter again! I'm so glad that you're enjoying this fic, and not put off about all the mystery. I know I've lost quite some readers because everyone wanted a quick Spashley romance, but that's not me, and it wasn't what this story is about. Wait, no, obviously it's about Spashley but not without some story first! So. Anyway, hope this update makes you smile! And no, I can't give any hints! What I can try and give you is more chapters though :) Enjoy! Thanks for reading and reviewing!**

 **GirlsOnly – CH43 : I will definitely be writing more SON fics, this journey is far from over, so don't stress! I have a couple of ideas lined up already once GOOA is done, obviously they'll be a lot shorter and more romance from the beginning, but yeah, not done yet! You're taking an awful risk holding your breath for the next chapter – what if I only updated in two weeks?! ;P Keep on reading to find out what happens with Kelly in the mix – my lips are pretty much sealed until it unfolds by means of a chapter update! Enjoy this one! Thanks for reading and reviewing!**

 **Guest – CH43 : Ask… and you shall receive :)Thanks for reading and reviewing!  
**

* * *

 **Kyla**

 **Riddles**

The flight back to New York was exhausting. It was even more exhausting to walk from the plane, through the never-ending terminal, to baggage claim and pick up my bag as inconspicuously as possible after having consumed more whiskey than was considered legal for my small body.

And just like I thought, _knew_ , Debbie waited on the other side of the doors, her face a mirror of the anxiety that was raging inside of her. She was never one to be able to hide what she felt. And it was clear, I realized, as I took a deep breath and mentally prepared myself for the barrage of questions I knew was coming.

The glass doors slid open and Debbie's was the first face I saw. How could I _not_ – she'd maneuvered herself over the stanchion poles and ropes supposed to give arrivals some space to move through hordes of eager family members and friends waiting on the other side. I watched with awe as she shrugged off a hand on her shoulder belonging to a female security guard. Her own arms embraced me with a strength I didn't know Debbie possessed.

"You said it was no big deal! No big _deal?_ People _died_ , Kyla! Police officers died!"

My body froze while Debbie's shook against me. When I got escorted out of the precinct the crowds were still pushing to get inside. I remembered vaguely as the kind police officer arranged with an officer from another precinct to get me back to the airport. I remembered vaguely a _ten-ninety-eight_ and _ten-thirty-nine_ being shouted through the radio attached to his vest. And while I had no idea what it meant, I supposed it was code for help and perhaps… injuries. Despite the white elephant in my bag, burning holes into the pocket I hid those incriminating photographs in, I couldn't help but hope Detective Carlin was at least okay. They were police, after all, and I was sure it was only civilians – _wait_ –

 _"Police officers?"_ I shrieked, hastily pulling away from Debbie. My hand was already in my jean pocket, fingers grabbing toward my phone.

The tremble came as a shock to me, but Debbie seemed understanding and led me towards the closest row of metal tandem sling seats, gently pushing me down by the shoulder the same time Detective Glen Carlin's name appeared on my screen and I hit the _dial_ -button.

I had no idea what I was going to say to him – the _reason_ I was back in New York was to get _away_ from him. But I couldn't help worrying about the boyish grin and genuine effort and care to help me find Ashley. I fleetingly pushed the thought of her far away for the first time in my life, swallowing a couple of times to find my voice when another voice startled me with a scratchy _Hello?_

"Gle – Detective Carlin, hi. It's Kyla Woods. I just, uhm, I just wanted to know if everything is okay at the station." My own voice was shaky, more from the icy relief slowly trickling all the way from my neck down to my toes at the realization that he was okay. He was _alive_.

There was a pause and I could hear him clear his throat. And another brief pause as he sniffed and I wondered… was he _crying_?

 _"Yes, uhm, the station is closed for the time being. Where are you? Are you okay?"_ His voice rose with anxiety as the questions escaped him and I couldn't help the slight flutter in my stomach.

I took a deep breath to calm my own nerves. "I just got back to New York. They got me out of the station before the crowds got in, and I just – I'm sorry, I got spooked and I just had to get back home." He didn't have to know the _full_ truth, not now, not _ever_.

 _"I'm just glad you're safe. I'm sorry about the wasted trip, miss Woods. We really had no idea this was going to happen."_ I heard another sniff on the other side of the line, and was incredibly tempted to ask whether the rumors were true. But I didn't have to. My intention was to ask Debbie for a soda to calm my nerves and nausea a bit, but my eye caught the hundreds of overhead TV screens instead, all filled with live streams and reporters keeping the nation updated about the shooting at 9th Division earlier today. Images of a handful of people, including the rookie, officer Ford, flashed across the screen, and I gasped when I realized _why_ they were on national TV.

 _"Kyla? Miss Woods?"_

There was no sound, by I couldn't tear my eyes away from the news. I waited anxiously for another image of officer Ford, and when I saw it, tears immediately prickled my eyes.

 _" –yla, is everything okay?"_

"Officer Ford… is he…" I couldn't even ask, not while I already knew. But I was hoping, _praying_ , that Detective Carlin would tell me otherwise.

 _"Yeah, he uh, he didn't make it. I'm still at the hospital."_

My heart went out to the young detective. While I had no idea what it felt like to lose a colleague, or anyone close to me that I've at least met in person, for that matter, and while I've only met up with detective Carlin once, I felt a distinct ache and I wished that I could be there to comfort him. I wasn't sure what the protocol was in the police department when fellow officers passed away, but detective Carlin sounded extremely broken over the loss of officer Ford. Maybe they were friends, maybe they grew up together, maybe they were _family_. I didn't have the guts to ask.

"I'm so sorry, Detective Carlin. Is there anything I can do?" It was a silly question, really. I was on the other side of the country, and completely unaffiliated with 9th Division or anyone at the station. The only person I ever spoke to was the gentle detective on the phone, and even _him_ , I didn't personally know.

There was a soft chuckle, pulling the slightest smile from me. _"No, not really. You've done what I would have asked already; to go home. I'm sorry about the investigation on your sister, it will be postponed until we're allowed to go back to the precinct, which is under heavy investigation at the moment. Our files will be moved if they can't open the doors within two days, and even then, it's a complete mess in there. And I uh, I'm forced to take some time off and seek counseling, so all in all, you'll probably only hear from me again in about two weeks."_ He cleared his throat, his tone changing after he listed the facts. _"I'm so sorry, Kyla. I know this must be so frustrating for you,"_ he added softly. _"But I uh, I really need to distance myself for a bit."_

The last part soaked me in understanding without him even having to say anything. I had a feeling Glen Carlin was there, maybe even _saw_ , when officer Ford got shot. I wasn't going to ask, far too relieved that I'd have time to investigate things on my own first. "Take your time, Detective Carlin, I completely understand. I'm really sorry about the loss of your officer, and I hope you can all find peace and closure after this incident."

 _"Thank you, Kyla – Miss Woods. I have to go now, but you take care, okay? Talk to someone if you need to. Traumatic events tend to creep up and break you when you least expect it. I'll give you a call as soon as I get back into the office. If I don't… call in for Detective Carlos Pena in two weeks. I'll ask him to keep you updated."_

His words haunted me a little but I shrugged it away like everything else, too scared to let the overwhelming discoveries and thoughts and emotions get to me. "You take care too, Detective Carlin. I'll speak to you in two weeks."

I didn't give him time to reply, far too anxious to get off the phone and recollect myself. My thumb pressed the red circle to end the call, and I just sat, staring at the call log, wondering why amidst the fear and trauma, there was a single butterfly trying to flurry around in my stomach.

"Here you go, you look a little pale over there," Debbie announced just in time before I could analyze things. I looked up at her as she slid onto the bench seat next to me, extending her hand to offer me a cold ginger ale. I offered her a small smile in return, hoping at the back of my mind that she wouldn't fire away with the questions I knew she so wanted to.

But sweet Debbie, having known me for years, just sat with me in silence until I finished the soda and crumpled the thin can in my still shaking hands. She gently took it from me and reached over to dump it in a trashcan, and then got up swiftly, her hand already on the trolley handle of my travel suitcase. "Let's get you home, shall we? You can tell me what you want to eat for the next week and I'll go get the ingredients while you sleep. And don't even try and fight me – you _need_ sleep. And I know you need space too, I'll just pop into your room like, maybe three times a day."

* * *

I never realized in the inebriated and exhausted state that I was, that Debbie was actually sleeping over at my place to keep a watchful eye. I only found out two days later that she'd been camping out on the sofa, getting up early to check in, coming back from the studio during her lunch break to check in again, and finally, to bring me some dinner in bed.

And while my heart soared with love because this was what my amazing best friend did for me, I also had a near heart-attack when I discovered she'd kindly unpacked my suitcase. I stared at the neatly folded clothes, stacked on top of the chest at the foot point of my bed, and right next to it, was my handbag, zip open.

Panic loomed in my chest as tried to gather my racing thoughts, reminding myself that Debbie would never go through my stuff. I probably left my bag open.

I glanced at my alarm clock on the bedside table, a strange relief washing over me when I realized Debbie wasn't home. She'd probably _just_ left; there was a glass filled with sparkling water and fresh sandwiches right next to my phone, compliantly connected to its charger. Which would explain why my bag was open.

I hesitantly sat up and listened carefully, trying to confirm whether I was the only person in my apartment. When the silence stretched into a second minute, I released the long held breath and jumped forward on my knees, eagerly grabbing towards the treacherous leather bag.

My hands were shaking like the very day I shoved the photographs into it. Reaching inside, I forced my fingers to feel along the lining of the wall compartment, the outline of hard photo paper setting my heart at ease. The photos were still there. Untouched.

I wasn't ready to face this, and wasn't sure when I'd ever be. But my sanity would never last if I had to carry around a bag containing evidence that could possibly ruin – I didn't even know – _Ashley's_ life? _My_ life? Detective Carlin's life?

With the bag dangling on my arm, I jumped out of bed without a second thought, trotting over to my walk-in closet, weight resting on my knees as I frantically shoved a large collection of shoes out of my way until the small wall-mounted safe came into sight. My finger punched the code automatically without me having to think about it, and then I squeezed my eyes shut, fumbling to open the zipper in the bag. The glossy paper was cool but I feared its burn. I shoved the photos inside the safe and shut the door with a huff, my heart in a frenzy as if I'd just run a marathon. Or robbed a bank. Or hid evidence. It took only a couple of minutes to pack the shoes back in place, hiding the safe from curious eyes.

The action left me on the floor, breathless and trembling.

And crying.

And that's how Debbie found me hours later; confusing my hysteria with trauma.

* * *

It took another three days of troubled sleep and utter concern from Debbie before I could force myself out of bed to start dealing with things. While I put the rioting at 9th Division behind me, I was still aching on behalf of Detective Carlin for the loss of their rookie. At the same time I was torn between fear and relief; knowing this was the very same rookie who had those photographs in his hands; _saw_ who was on it; _knew_ who it was.

I dared to pad out of my room after Debbie had left for work, assuring me that she had things under control at the studio until I was ready to go back. It would have been a good distraction, but I was afraid it wouldn't be _enough_ , and I couldn't bear the thought of teaching subpar yoga classes to my clients. It was the one thing that grounded me, and I couldn't mess it up. Not for myself, and definitely not for Debbie who'd been such an amazing friend to me all these years.

My eyes roamed over the neat lounge area, the clean kitchen, emotion welling up in me as I thought of Debbie's support again. I knew she was waiting for me to talk to her, open up to her, but for the first time in my life, I just couldn't. Not until I knew, and even after I knew, I didn't know what to do. Telling someone was out of the question.

I spotted the TV remote on the couch Debbie had most likely been sleeping on, and I plunged down unceremoniously, wondering if there were any news updates about the state of 9th Division.

One channel seemed to be entirely dedicated to the entire case. The mayor; his dishonest dealings; thoughts from very unhappy LA and Californian civilians; the rioting and shooting at 9th Division; the suspect; the victims; and finally, some short inserts about the mayor's deceased daughter.

I knew I'd find a lot of information if I could just sit and watch, but it was incredibly hard knowing there were sections I'd have to watch with an indifferent perception. It had crossed my mind to look at the photographs and compare it to photos I had of Ashley, but at this stage, it was the thing that scared me most. I wasn't ready.

So I found myself back on the couch with popcorn and whiskey, wrapped in a blanket, tissues in one hand, remote in the other, eyes glued to the screen as I soaked up the news about Dan Miller, Sasha Miller, Sebastian Ford, and everybody else involved.

I learned that Sebastian Ford was killed by a stray bullet. The gunman had been taken into custody and faced charges of treason, attempted murder on the mayor, first degree murder on officer Ford and two civilians, and a list of unrelated smaller felonies.

9th Division was due to reopen within a week; its active officers scattered over LA for the time being. In the meantime, a group of detectives and other personnel were involved with the tremendous task of sorting through scattered files and paperwork. The public was reassured that they had systems in place to speed up the process especially regarding open investigations.

That was the part I didn't want to hear. It didn't give me much time, despite the knowledge that Detective Carlin's absence would keep my case delayed.

I took a deep, steadying breath and closed my eyes, regretting going to LA. Regretting pushing and not giving up on the disappearance of Ashley. I regretted the position I was in, knowing I wasn't one who dealt well with secrets. I'd never be able to hide anything from Debbie while I was still so uncertain myself.

I finally got off the couch, leaving everything as it was, and forced myself back into my room. It was easy to find photographs of Ashley – I had a manila folder of my own open on my desk. I stared down at the pretty girl staring right back at me, a small smile playing at the corners of her lips. It looked like a bit of a smirk as she looked at the camera, at whoever took the photo of her. Her eyes were bright and there was this sense of confidence and blatant youth about her. She looked far from an innocent school girl, but at least she seemed _happy,_ taking in consideration her home situation and the beast that lived there with her.

I didn't know what came over me, but suddenly I just _had_ to know. With courage from an unknown source, I marched over to the closet, pushed aside the shoes and punched in the code of the safe. The door popped open and it was then when I finally froze.

I wasn't ready.

But my fingers reached towards the hard paper anyway, and before I could stop myself, I was back at the desk, holding my breath as I flipped the police photo over and lined it up with the photo I had of Ashley.

Everything was different.

The girl in my photo wasn't the same as the one in the police photo. While one looked extremely content, the other looked bewildered and scared. While one smiled with bright eyes, the other had a frown on her forehead, her fearful eyes dull and lips in a tight line. While one had loose curls flowing around her head, rounding off an already pretty face, the other's hair was pulled into a loose ponytail, the windblown strands barely hiding her strong jaw line and nervous appearance.

But as much as everything was different, it was all painstakingly the same. It was the same person. It was Ashley Davies, my missing sister. My missing sister who had committed a heinous crime. And possibly another, moments before I picked up a rental car from the same scene another person died.

The whiskey came up first, followed by popcorn kernels and bile.

Debbie found me on the floor again, obliviously, but _thankfully_ , mistaking my unbearably painful discovery for trauma.

* * *

 **Riddles – Kensington**


	45. 45

**A/N: When I first listened to this song and saved the lyrics I was excited because it** ** _did_** **fit in right with the entire theme of the story, but as dark and twisted as Ghost of an Angel may seem, I felt uneasy to put Ashley in such a somber situation, especially right in the middle of the fic while I still had so much other drama to offer. But never one to back down from a challenge, I read up on the song and the band's interpretation instead of what listeners initially thought, and wow, it turned out even better!**

 **Thanks to reader and reviewer Alister Von for suggesting this song, it took some reshuffling of chapters but I really love what the actual meaning of the song could bring to this fic! I'll post an excerpt by the lead singer of Shinedown at the end of the chapter, hoping I can successfully portray their lyrics into this fic without having to explain too much!**

 **On that note, Happy (belated) New Year to everyone, I hope you all have a prosperous 2017!**

 **Let's get on with this ;)**

* * *

 **GirlsOnly – CH44 : I'm sorry it took so very long to update! Been working and traveling but here it is – finally :) Yes, Kyla now knows, and you will soon find out just what she does with that information! Thank you for reading and reviewing!**

 **K1989 – CH44 : Haha, I'm sure Ashley would love to kill Aiden all over again. And probably Kelly too. But yes, there is quite a predicament here which, well, is still a whole couple of chapters away… But thank you for reading and reviewing and I hope to update more frequently now that all the festivities and everything is out of the way!**

 **Guest – CH44 : Thanks for checking in – it means a lot to know there's still readers curious to know what's going to happen! Hope this update doesn't disappoint!**

 **Redess89 – CH44 : I'm so sorry it's been so long since that last update! I hope you enjoy the next chapter and be ready for a little bit more suspense! Thank you for reading and reviewing!**

 **SoNFan – CH44 : I hope this chapter is even better than the last! Thank you so much for reading and always reviewing! Lots of things to still happen!**

 **Anjela78 – CH44 : I hope you haven't given up on this fic! Here's the next chapter, I trust it will be enjoyable ;) Thank you for reading and reviewing!**

 **ToriDub – CH44 : Kyla… well, the poor girl is now in a catch 22, and only time will tell how she deals with what she knows. It can't be an easy situation to be in, but let's see what the puppetmaster thinks ;) Hope you like this update, there's a lot of things that's going to happen in succession from here on. Thank you for reading and reviewing!**

* * *

 **Ashley**

 **45**

Time flew when Spencer was with me. Despite my fear of the ghosts - _especially_ Kelly - going after Spencer for my mistakes, I couldn't help but beg her to stay just a little longer every time she had to go.

"Five more minutes?"

I loved when Spencer chuckled. Her body shook slightly and she always brought her hand up to her mouth. A mouth I'd become very accustomed to kissing goodnight every night lately.

She must have read my mind and leaned forward, ghosting softly over my lips with her own. "You're such a big baby," she teased.

I laughed and grabbed for her head, her silky hair splaying between my fingers as I held her in place, reaching up just a little to kiss her properly.

There were no protests; only a soft moan as I shamelessly stuck my tongue in her mouth, a different kind of electricity jumpstarting my heart as we dueled until air became a necessity.

Spencer was flushed, her cheeks red, but what had me was the sparkle in her eyes and the impish smile on her face. Our eyes met and I could gauge by her expression that she felt the butterflies too.

Her resolve to go home was instantly forgotten; she sat back down on the hard, plastic chair, leaning forward to rest her elbows on the side of my bed. "I'll stay until they tell me to go," Spencer explained, nodding towards the clock on the wall. Though she was allowed to visit me now, we didn't want to push it. Latest for visitors to leave was just after eight. We had a couple of minutes to spare.

I appreciated the gesture. I appreciated Spencer spending all her free time with me, ensuring I had everything I needed; snacks, magazines, toiletries, whatever I asked, she made sure to get me. Her visits were the highlights of my days; every morning during my sessions with Doctor Carlin, she waited in my room until the nurses wheeled me back from his suite. And she stayed until I fell asleep after morning visiting hours.

When I woke up in the afternoons, she was here. Sometimes dozing off herself. The evening visits always felt short and anxious – I hated that she had to go and leave me for twelve hours to deal with my ghosts and all my inner demons. She started sensing this, and I knew that's why she decided to stay.

Tonight wasn't any different. I was anxious, but more so because of the kiss. Because of what I was feeling for Spencer, and how I craved for so much more of her. I felt ashamed for wanting more despite everything she was already giving to me. I've never felt this way before – I've never wanted to kiss a girl and keep kissing her. I've never wanted to wake up next to someone, let alone just fall asleep in each other's arms without any expectations or ulterior motives. It was all new to me, and so precious, and I couldn't help the bouts of fear pushing through sometimes, fear that this wouldn't last, fear that I was going to mess it all up, fear that Spencer would find out who I really was. And of course, the worst fear of all, that Spencer would get hurt because of me.

I swallowed hard, trying to push away these kind of thoughts until I was alone. I didn't want to waste any of the time I had with Spencer worrying about things I had no control over while I was still stuck in hospital.

But it was too late. Spencer was good at staring inconspicuously, good at reading people and analyzing and waiting for the right moment to say the right thing. "Ash… I'll be here in the morning, I'm not going anywhere," she promised softly, reaching out to tuck a stray strand of hair behind my ear.

I closed my eyes at her soft, cool touch to my heated skin, the butterflies fluttering even more when she kept her hand up, cupping my cheek. I leaned in and just savored the peace and reassurance she offered me, finding myself wishing again that she didn't have to go. What I wouldn't give to just have her next to me through the night, to be comforted by her mere presence as we slept.

"Soon…" Spencer whispered, moving in even closer. She cradled my head in her arms as if understanding all my fears and worries without me even saying anything. "We'll find out tomorrow after your scan how things are going. And then hopefully I'll get to take you home. I'll look after you, I promise."

It was a promise that caught me by surprise. Though I craved to have Spencer with me twenty-four seven, I never really thought about that actually happening. I never thought about going back to my condo, to being somewhat free and being able to see Spencer any time I wanted to. And I desperately did want to see her every second of every day. Was that what she was promising me?

I pulled back and stared at her, anxious to convey my want and desires by the desperation and hope in my wide eyes.

The soft, warm smile Spencer gave me melted all my organs. "If that's what you want? I mean, I can, uh, I can come by every day to be there. With you, I mean. To look after you."

I lunged back into her arms, blissfully forgetting about the world around us for a moment, drowned out by the comfort of a steady heartbeat, even breathing, and a sense of safety I've been yearning for so long.

This time the tears weren't Spencer's – I couldn't help myself just letting go of all the anxiety and fear and confusion of what's been happening to me ever since I started regaining my senses. "Thank you… thank you so much for not letting me disappear. Without you I'd be alone."

Spencer held on even tighter, her hand running soothing circles on my back. "You're not alone, I'm not going anywhere."

"Don't make promises you can't keep, young lady."

We both jumped at the stern voice of the charge nurse, and though I had a mouthful of expletives I wanted to throw her way for interrupting our special moment, I couldn't help but notice the nurse was actually smiling for a change. It was barely there – like the muscles in her face couldn't properly execute the function of merely looking happy for someone else – but it was _something_ nonetheless.

My heart sank instantly as Spencer pulled away – we both knew our time was up. I grabbed towards her hand, holding on tightly until it was absolutely necessary and life-threatening for Spencer to make a run for it.

"I'm sorry to have to do this, ladies, but visitor's time is over."

I was at the brink of tears again, but the way Spencer smiled at me, reassuringly, I put on a brave face, telling her I could do this. I could survive twelve hours without her.

"I'll be back tomorrow morning. With your fruity gums and magazines."

And there it was again – that _almost_ -smile from the charge nurse as she waited patiently for Spencer to let go of my hand and leave.

As much as I didn't want her to go, I sighed and reluctantly released my grip on her hand, watching with a heavy heart as Spencer blew me a kiss and disappeared out the door.

"She'll be back tomorrow – she won't break her promise," the nurse offered, fluffing the pillows behind my back.

As much as I wanted to be a baby about this, I knew I couldn't let my fears of being alone with the ghosts get the better of me. So I let out another heavy sigh instead, watching dully as the nurse performed her duties with great expertise.

She heard the sigh and stopped for a moment to eye me carefully. "Miss Davies, if I may… Your recovery the past week has greatly improved since doctor Carlin approved your friend's visits. You'll be out of here soon. To be honest, I think your scan tomorrow will yield some positive results. And I don't doubt for a second that you'll be in great hands once you get discharged. You hold on in there, okay?"

I could only nod, a lump resting heavily in my throat. I wasn't sure why the nurse had a sudden change of heart, but it did make me feel somewhat better that I was surrounded by kind humans. I could use every living smile directed my way to get through this, to heal, to get out of the hospital and get my life in order.

I was ready to live.

"So we'll be waking you up earlier tomorrow morning. After breakfast and first rounds they'll take you down for blood tests and the MRI, and straight after you'll be going for some physical therapy before your session with doctor Carlin. The results should be with him by the time you get there. Who knows, maybe in a day or two you won't have to put up with the hospital staff anymore."

There was another hint of a smile, but the nurse didn't stay long enough for me to ask her what's gotten into her. I barely had time to think too hard about it before my eyelids started drooping, and with a content smile I closed my eyes and braved the solitude.

* * *

And like every other morning, the hustle of the hospital graveyard shift interrupted my heavenly Spencer-filled dreams to stare at six sets of curious eyes, waiting patiently for my slumber – and good mood – to disappear.

"Good morning, Sunshine," Kelly announced, busying herself by rearranging the fresh flowers Spencer bought me.

I rolled my eyes and slumped further into my pillows, wishing it could swallow me whole. I wasn't up for discussions, or a fight, or even a conversation with any of them this morning. And the fact that Kelly was _touching_ the flowers Spencer gave me… I took a deep breath and closed my eyes, counting to ten to keep my emotions in check. Pissing Kelly off wasn't on my to-do list either – not when I couldn't protect Spencer. _Yet_.

"So, word is that you might be discharged soon. We have a lot of work to do."

My eyes snapped open and I stared at Aiden, frowning at the eagerness, the _readiness_ in his voice. It was the same Aiden who briefed me on case files. The same Aiden who had all the logistics of my hits planned out and answered all the necessary questions. The same Aiden who _enjoyed_ the job he did at The Agency.

His eyes hadn't been sparkling like this since I last went to New York, and I got a sickening feeling in my stomach that he was excited. Excited about planning a hit. Excited about me killing people. Almost like the old times.

Except _I_ was never excited. Adrenalin-pumped, maybe, but never _excited_.

He noticed my uncertainty and smirked brashly. "What? Come _on_ , Ash, you said you were going to do this. Everybody's excited. Why aren't you?"

At the mention of everyone else I allowed myself to make eye-contact, and sure enough, the gloomy uncertainty had disappeared overnight. While Sasha skipped through TV channels, her perfect complexion looked relaxed and less… depressed.

Sean leaned against the door frame, loosening his tie every so often, a look of content on his face.

Madison was humming to music every time Sasha stopped on the MTV-channel, her body even swaying slightly as she tuned in to the melodies.

Lily, who I still regarded bewildered after finding out what had happened to her, stared wistfully at a fancy house in the magazine on her lap. It was almost as if she was at peace now, with what had happened, with where she was.

But something was so very wrong with this picture.

While my ghosts seemed ecstatic, _I_ wasn't happy. I wanted to fight and deny them the freedom they so desperately sought.

Because giving them _their_ freedom only pulled _me_ further into a darkness I wasn't ready to plunge myself into. I wasn't ready for this, I simply couldn't kill any more people. I couldn't do this to myself, to Spencer, to strangers out there, no matter how deserving my ghosts thought they were to die.

But when Kelly turned to me, brows raised while holding up a single red rose snuck in between the rest of Spencer's flower arrangement, the decision was made _for_ me. Kelly's threat on Spencer's life remained silent, but I got the message, loud and clear.

* * *

My leg bounced and my palms were sweaty as I sat on an all too familiar plush couch, the yellow walls, certificates, and family black-and-whites doing nothing to calm my nerves. I was desperate to get up and pace, to stare at the family portrait that I haven't seen in so long, to run away, but physical therapy left me completely exhausted. And despite my anxiety to go home and kill more people, I was more terrified to learn what the latest was on my medical condition. Whether I'd be allowed to go home. Whether they still deemed me sane and capable of looking after myself.

The main door to the suite opened, revealing a bright and comforting smile on Doctor Arthur Carlin's face. He slipped in with a soft _"Hello Ashley,"_ and closed the door softly behind him, his strides confident as he made his way over to one of the single couches opposite me.

He had a bunch of files in his hand and spread it across his lap; grabbing towards an oversized yellow envelope. My eye caught the printed details on the front; _Magnetic Resonance Imaging_ , my personal details, and a list containing comments and check marks.

I held my breath as Doctor Carlin's fingers reached inside the envelope, pulling out a printed report and with it two of about a dozen scans.

He skimmed over the report and slightly held one film up towards the light, and I squirmed, wishing he'd stop with the torture.

A soft _hmm_ escaped him as he pulled out another scan, first reading through the report again before turning his attention to the film.

I found myself wiping my palms on the skimpy hospital gown repeatedly, unaware of just how nervous Doctor Carlin was making me with his facial expressions. The smile was long gone as he concentrated hard to obviously come to a conclusion on my state of wellbeing.

"So," he started, and I released the breath I'd forgotten I'd been holding in. Doctor Carlin looked up at me with surprise, and let out a soft chuckle, only realizing now how anxious I've been.

"I'm sorry Ashley, I just wanted to make sure what they wrote in the report could substantiate my directive to have you discharged tomorrow."

My face lit up at the news and Doctor Carlin smiled before his face turned serious. "It looks like that will be the case, but I have my reservations, Ashley…"

My shoulders slumped, and I had an inkling where this was going. He had that fatherly tone in his voice, the tone that he somehow reserved to make me feel bad about my reckless behavior but still encouraged me that he wanted me to get better.

He regarded me for a second before shifting the couch a little, moving it closer to sit right in front of me. "Ashley," he sighed, opening the thick file containing all my progress reports and notes and prior scripts. He flipped through to the last page of notes, fleetingly scanning through it before facing me again.

"I'm sure I don't have to have this conversation with you, but as your doctor, as a confidant, as someone who cares a _great_ deal about you, I can't let you leave here without reminding you how important it is that you look after yourself. While we're doing everything we can to get to the bottom of the hallucinations and problems you're still having after your head injury, you have to promise me that you will take this seriously too. And that means be here every week. Don't drink alcohol. Take your prescribed medication – don't abuse it."

My face heated up in embarrassment and I dropped my gaze, unable to look Doctor Carlin in the eyes as he continued with his list of very valid concerns about my past behavior.

"Get enough sleep, do some light exercise, follow the diet I'm prescribing you. Ashley all these things are crucial for your very _survival_. You were lucky in the diner the other day. I really hope you will keep spending time with that friend who practically saved your life. I know you're not always willing to talk to me, but then talk to your friend. Tell people when you're not feeling well. Give her my card, let her phone me. Trust people to help you, Ashley."

A lump slowly pushed its way up into my throat as I listened to my doctor spilling all these easy fixes, easy answers as if it should come natural to me. But he had no idea how difficult it really was – how I could _not_ trust people, not even Spencer, not even myself. I nodded to his gentle words anyway, knowing he was just really a concerned doctor. He was probably a great dad, and I found myself envying the kids in the pictures on his wall.

"So, I'm writing you a complete new script, I want you to stop with everything you had at home. Flush it down the toilet if you have to. Ashley…"

I finally faced him when he paused, swallowing hard to get rid of the lump.

Doctor Carlin's features softened as he took a moment to give me a once over. My hands were still sweaty, leg still slightly bouncing, shoulders slumped. His speech left me deflated despite the happiness I should feel after learning I'd go home.

"Can you promise me that you will look after yourself? If not for yourself, for your friend, then? She deserves the best version of you, and frankly, so do you. Don't let the time it's taking to fix you take away the time you have to enjoy life. And you _can_ enjoy life, if you just push through with your visits and try to stay healthy."

I was pretty sure Doctor Carlin's intention was to cheer me up, but when he reminded me that Spencer deserved the best version of me, I couldn't stop the tears.

The pressure of keeping her safe but refusing to let her go was taking its toll on me. I wanted Spencer to have the best version of me. I wanted her to feel the same way that I felt about her. I wanted her to feel that she couldn't live without me, that she _needed_ me. But I also wanted her to feel safe.

How was I going to do that with a dark past looming over me like shadows of ghosts on a wall?

How was I going to get rid of the ghosts while selfishly not wanting her to leave my side for even a second?

And how was I going to keep Kelly from finding out who she was, when all I wanted was spend every living moment with her?

"Oh, Ashley. Everything's going to be okay," Doctor Carlin soothed, reaching out to squeeze my shoulder. "You just hold on in there, okay? Take it day by day. Baby steps."

I finally calmed down a little to wipe away the tears and nodded in agreement. Maybe he was right. Maybe I just needed to give myself some time, and take it day by day.

Maybe even hour by hour.

"So… do I sign your discharge papers? Are you ready to give this a try?" This time there was no apprehension about my recklessness or disappointment in his voice; this time he was confident that I could be an adult about this.

So maybe the weekly visits wasn't entirely the cure for my hallucinations, but maybe, just _maybe_ , if I kept taking Doctor Carlin's advice, and kept talking to him, I could get through the dreadful things I had to do in order to find some peace. He didn't have to know the truth, but at least he'd be proud to hear how my ghosts started disappearing one by one…

* * *

The first two days back home was magical.

I got to sleep for a solid forty-eight hours before Spencer gently shook my shoulder to wake me, the smell of a decent home-cooked meal close by rumbling my stomach.

It took some effort to lift my heavy-lidded eyes, but I wasn't angry or even annoyed that my heavenly sleep got disturbed – definitely not when I got woken up like this.

A smile immediately curved my lips as I stared up at her, holding the tray with one hand while making space on my nightstand with the other.

"You cooked?" I found myself asking shyly, scanning the contents of the plate. Slivers of chicken, potato wedges and steamed vegetables created a delicious aroma, lingering in the air all the way from the kitchen.

Spencer finished up moving stuff around and finally sat down at the edge of my bed, a proud blush covering her cheeks. "Yeah, I uh, I hope it's okay. I had to go get some stuff earlier, I'm afraid you don't have any fresh groceries left in your place."

I nodded at the realization – I'd been in hospital for so long and on top of that I was a terrible cook; the kitchen was probably still a mess after I'd tried to cook for Spencer before everything came crashing down on us.

"This looks great, thank you Spencer." And it _did_ – it certainly beat the terrible hospital food. I pulled myself up and rested against the headboard, feeling my heart flutter as Spencer took the tray and lowered it onto my lap. I couldn't believe how lucky I was to have this incredible girl looking after me.

"How are you feeling? You have some more color back in your cheeks," Spencer observed, her hand automatically reaching out to tuck a strand of hair behind my ear.

I literally swooned at the gesture and tried hard to keep breathing normally. There was just something about Spencer, about the way her touches were always soft and gentle, about the way she noticed things, however small.

I offered a smile while I bit through the chicken, savoring the taste. She was an incredible cook. And I wasn't surprised – everything about Spencer seemed perfect. "The sleep definitely helped – back in the hospital it just felt like I couldn't sleep long or deep enough."

I watched a content smile form on Spencer's lips. "I'm glad that it helped. I'll let you sleep more after this, but you have to wake up tomorrow morning for your medication and try to be a little active."

"Will you stay with me again tonight?" I asked meekly, wishing she never had to leave. Though I've been passed out and didn't even know where she slept, just the knowledge that Spencer was here with me was comforting, and as much as I _didn't_ want to think about it, her presence also kept the ghosts away.

Spencer contemplated my request for a moment, and finally relented. I knew I was asking a lot, but having her with me helped tremendously. Especially my emotional wellbeing. The world just felt a tad bit lighter on my shoulders.

"I'll stay the night, but I really need to sort out some stuff at my place tomorrow. So I'll leave after you've had breakfast and can move around a bit, then I'll be back with dinner. There's enough food to sort you for lunch. That okay?"

I stared into bright blue eyes, the reality of our situation struggling to sink in. I was back in the clouds, back in the fluffy comfort of Spencer-heaven. I could feel a smile pulling at my lips and my head nodding on its own in agreement to her itinerary.

A matching smile formed on Spencer's face, and we just stared at each other stupidly, wondering what this all meant. Where it was headed. We were making plans to see each other more, arranging schedules, coordinating _sleeping_ arrangements. It felt so natural, as if we'd been doing this for more than just a day. It felt like… _dating_.

It felt incredible.

"It'd really like that, thank you," I finally whispered, my stomach reminding me that I hadn't eaten in two days. It rumbled loud enough for Spencer to hear, and her chuckle was like music to my ears.

"Eat up so we can have dessert," she urged, and my face broke out into an even wider smile.

"You got dessert?"

Spencer laughed. "Well, it's nothing much – just Jell-O. Our favorite nurse recommended it, she said the gelatin and sugar is good for you at the moment, and if you struggle with your meals until you're active again, the Jell-O is easy to digest."

A sarcastic retort about the nurse died in my throat and I stared at the girl in front of me in awe. My eyes scanned her features, how her blonde hair hung loosely around her face, making her seem so much more mature, happy, as if the skinny, sad blonde I'd met on the beach so many months ago was all just a mirage. The hue of her eyes were dark and deep, shining brightly, just like her radiant smile. Her body language was much more open, she was comfortable where she sat, and wasn't pulled into herself.

I found it endearing and my heart skipped beats as I realized this amazing girl was here with _me_.

"Ash? Are you okay?"

And her voice. It was bizarrely low, stirring emotions and feelings down low within _me_ too.

"Where did you go?" she persisted gently when I blinked to come back to reality. Her head tilted sideways as she eyed me carefully. My heart was going to stop altogether if she continued being so attractively charming.

"I…" I was stuttering, I knew, and this was all new to me. I used to be good and smooth with girls!

Spencer tilted her head further, somewhat forward, her brows raising uncertainly as she begged me with those beautiful blue eyes to tell her what was up.

"I…" I stammered again, unable to find words to describe how she made me feel. I subconsciously moved the tray off my lap and leaned forward on my knees toward her, wishing I could express my feelings in words. But it never came, so all I was left with was to cup her face and bring it close to mine, my lips meeting hers with fervor and an urgency I hadn't previously noticed was there.

I was met with similar enthusiasm from the blonde goddess in front of me. She returned the kiss and was first to press her tongue against my lips, a flurry of butterflies letting loose in my stomach. I granted her access and found myself groaning when her tongue explored my mouth. It set off a tingling feeling all the way from where she touched me, down my throat, through the butterflies, and right into parts which shouldn't get too excited too quickly.

Her cool hands covered mine still on her face, and she held on for dear life, squeezing her eyes shut as she continued to brush her tongue over mine, sending more signals down south.

It soon became difficult to keep sitting like this _and_ keep up the intimate kisses that demanded so much more attention, but I was taken by utter surprise when _Spencer_ was the one who gently pushed _me_ backward. My hands instinctively grabbed around her back as she lowered me onto the stuffed pillows, pulling her down with me. Her assault on my lips and into my mouth continued while my fingers found the hem of her shirt, my heart pounding hard against my chest as I made first contact.

Her skin was so soft and smooth, I could barely stop myself from sneaking my hands underneath and reveling at the warmth. My hands cupped and I raked my nails down her back, pulling simultaneous groans from both of us. The way she breathed into me at the action had my own breath hitch.

Our kisses turned desperate and needy, hands trying to touch whatever skin was available.

I positively felt like I was going to self-combust.

My heart beat erratically and the way Spencer was panting into my mouth while she kissed me drove me even more insane. My long-abandoned libido screamed at me to do something about the skin that _wasn't_ being touched, but as much as I wanted to, I suddenly found myself slowing down, trying to calm my heart and feelings and _feelings down there_.

I wanted Spencer, I really wanted to have her in every way possible. But it was just too soon. I wasn't ready – I was still getting used to a kind of intimacy I've only ever dreamed of, and while I was sure Spencer would be all my wet dreams come true, I just couldn't do it like this.

My change in pace alerted Spencer and she finally slowed down herself, breathing hard as she tugged at my lips with her teeth, and finally let go.

She didn't seem to mind that I just pulled the brakes on our make out session. She looked satisfied, in fact, that we got to do what we just did. A smile played at her lips as she stared down at me, ghosting a kiss over my lips before resting her weight on top of me, her head cradled between my chin and my chest.

"Your heart's beating really fast," she whispered, placing her palm flat against my chest, right below my collarbone. I was pretty much sure that little action just made it beat even _faster_.

I let out a deep breath and felt silly for having this huge smile on my face that Spencer couldn't even see. I wasn't sure if it was because of what just happened, or that I thoroughly enjoyed the aftermath with her just… being close with me.

I realized that things have changed so much over the past few months. From senseless hookups, seeking desperate relief against anxiety and the pressure of things I had to do, to being in a situation where I felt so much I could almost not deal with the intensity of it. It was easy to distinguish which brought out the better version of me.

Doctor Carlin's words echoed in my memory, urging me to be the best version of myself for Spencer, and myself. It felt like a mini victory, of sorts, to know that I wanted things to be great for the both of us. Like tonight. As great as it was, I knew I could give Spencer so much more. And she deserved so much more.

For the first time since we met, I felt like I could be the one who could give that to her.

* * *

I was sad to let her go, my bottom lip quivering as I watched Spencer walk down to the gate, turned around to blow me one last kiss, and disappeared out of sight.

I quietly closed the front door of my condo and leaned against it after it clicked shut, confused between the sudden loss I felt but yet so ecstatic about everything I have experienced the past three days.

Of course, while blissfully asleep for the first two, the third day still outdid the others by far. My mind drifted towards last night, to the way Spencer wanted me the same way I desperately wanted her, to the calm afterward, and waking up this morning feeling amazing.

Spencer was spastically splayed all over me, but it was the best way to wake up, ever. I never even realized that we fell asleep, Spencer still listening to my racing heartbeat. I wasn't sure who passed out first, not that it mattered. What mattered was that she was still there when I opened my eyes.

While I took a much needed shower, Spencer prepared a quick breakfast and packed out all the medication I had to take for the day.

She was serious about taking care of me, and I felt a deep fondness toward her for being so sweet.

"Had a good night?"

I groaned, my reminiscing short-lived as Kelly walked down the short hallway towards me, as if she'd been loitering there all along. I was curious to see how they just appeared out of thin air.

"Better than yours," I retorted carefully, not wanting to rile Kelly up despite my natural instinct to do so. Her threats still lurked in the air like a heavy cloud above me and my conscience.

"You should introduce us soon. I'm sure she would love to get to know you better. You know, the Ashley _we_ know. Does your girlfriend know what you do for a living?" Kelly taunted.

I pushed myself away from the door with a sigh and inched over to the kitchen for some coffee, trying to put some distance between myself and Kelly. It was really hard to keep my temper in check with her.

"Ah, Ashley, you're up and awake! You look good today, well rested." Aiden commented, appearing from the same spot in the hallway Kelly just materialized from.

"It's because her _girlfriend_ spent the night," Kelly persisted, starting to test my patience – and resistance to fall right into her trap.

My eyes met Aiden's and for a very brief moment I saw sadness cloud his eyes at the revelation. I couldn't help the disdain that coursed through me that he was _still_ hung up about me. While it was pathetic it was also really bothersome. I could still not trust Aiden, I'd never trust him again, but I had to look past this to use his skills to plan my hits. I wouldn't be able to do it without him and I _hated_ that it was like that. He knew how important his role was to get rid of the ghosts and I was scared of the moment he was going to use that against me.

"Ugh, are you _still_ on about that? Get a life, Kelly. Ash, you look good." Madison sauntered into the kitchen, flaunting how good she looked in that white hotel robe. It felt so natural the way she behaved that I almost offered her coffee.

"Hey," Sasha announced her presence shortly after, heading straight to the lounge. I wondered why she kept flicking through channels all the time. It wasn't as if Sasha's life was lacking any social needs. I could hardly pin her for the type to do something like that all day.

Lily surprised me with a warm smile and continued admiring the condo.

"Everybody's in a good mood. Don't ruin this, Ashley. It's been long enough, we all want to go home," Aiden said softly, as if reading my mind.

I _was_ wondering what was going on. But I'd never admit that to him.

"Well, what are you waiting for? Have any of you started digging? I can't build the case files by myself. I don't know who you all pissed off. I was only there to do my job." I was sure to remind them of that last two facts, especially Kelly. She pissed the entire _world_ off – it was going to be some operation trying to pick out the guilty culprit from seven billion suspects.

"Can you unlock your office so we can sit with you and do some research?" Lily asked, suddenly very interested. She stopped wandering around and joined us in the kitchen.

I huffed out a _fine_ , and like ducklings, they all followed me to the small office where all the planning and research took place.

It took me a minute to adjust to the way it made me feel.

Like a cold-blooded killer.

Up on one wall was still all the information about Boz Anderson and Logan Jones, their families, their history, everything about their lives that _cost_ them their lives.

An uneasy feeling settled in my stomach and despite trying to swallow it down with my coffee, the aftertaste just came back worse. It was the taste of blood. Murder. My hands twitched involuntary, and for some sick reason I missed my old rituals, missed holding my sniper rifle.

The realization was overwhelming and terrifying, make me step backwards, out of the office into the short hallway.

It was like shock washed over me and I couldn't get myself to react to what I just saw and experienced.

I _didn't_ want to miss my rifle and I didn't _want_ to kill more people.

But why did I suddenly feel that it was a part of who I was?

The cup dropped from my hands and I found myself in the guest bathroom, trying to rid my thoughts and feelings through the bile rising up in my throat.

I was not a killer.

I was not born to do this.

I owed myself the best version of me. I owed it to Spencer. And the killer Ashley was not that version.

I refused to believe it.

Madison followed me inside and though she couldn't hold my hair back while I heaved, I appreciated her presence. Even if that wasn't real either.

A searing pain shot through my forehead and I wailed out loud. I've forgotten that I wasn't allowed to use that phrase.

"Ash… it's going to be okay," Madison soothed, and I really wished I could believe her. They had no idea how conflicted this made me feel. Like what a monster I felt like.

"I know it's not much coming from me, but I'm on your side, okay, chica? Get rid of that bitch Kelly before she hurts your girl."

Getting rid of Kelly was all the encouragement I needed to push through with this. Eliminating her from my living nightmare meant I could sleep a little more peacefully, knowing that Spencer was still safe.

So I cleaned myself up and marched back into the office with renewed energy, planning to throw all my time and effort into the research needed to find out who ordered the hit on her. And I wasn't planning on stopping until we did.

"Kelly, get me everything you know about your ex girlfriend, or fiancé, or whatever. I want everything, dirt, dirt on her family, _everything_. _That's_ where we start." I figured it would be fun to hurt her where it mattered most.

Our eyes met, and I challenged her silently, just like she kept doing to me. _Two can play this game_.

* * *

 **45 – Shinedown**

Brent Smith (the lead singer and songwriter of Shinedown) has stated in an interview:

 _"_ _The inspiration from the song really came from – I think a lot of people kinda take a literal sense because of the lyrics – but the song is basically about the day that you wake up and you look at yourself in the mirror and you finally decide that you want to try to become comfortable in your own skin, and realize that you're gonna have to make yourself happy before you're going to make anyone else happy. And basically, the 45 isn't an actual literal term for a gun, I used it as a metaphor for the world, the .45 is actually the world and what it hands you every day of your life. When you get up, it's a gift to be alive to begin with. A lot of different people, when I've talked about it, they said, "Do you really honestly mean that?" And I'm like, "Well, yeah." Because I've been in that situation where I didn't know if I wanted to continue going on and I didn't know how to necessarily make myself comfortable with who I was, trying to find a way of learning more about myself. And you come from a dark place sometimes, and that's really the reality of the song. It's about overcoming and about moving forward. And it's basically about understanding that it's not always going to be good, but you really have no one to blame for yourself if you don't move forward. That's where the whole, "Nobody knows what I believe," [comes from] because we're all individuals. So that's really where it comes from, it's about moving on, really."_


	46. Not Afraid

**A/N: So I know it's been some time – _again_ – but I haven't forgotten about this fic, promise! If anything, it's been bugging me non-stop. Unfortunately I suffered a painful injury right after my last update, and it's kept me from doing a lot of things, including my beloved writing!**

 **How awesome was Clexacon? Of course it's way too far for me to have attended (since I'm on another continent), but the Spashley reunion was amazing and very inspirational – to me at least. I'm grateful for technology and the people who filmed the Q &A and posted it on Youtube!**

 **Anyway, let me not waste time with the nitty-gritties and get on with the long overdue chapter!**

 **Thanks to everyone who's still reading! Even if you don't review, I'm just glad there's still a Spashley fanbase out there :) I'm not affiliated in any way, it's just that SON will always be that** ** _one_** **show for me…**

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 **ToriDub – CH45 : I hope you get excited again, I'm really trying my best to get back to regular updates. I'm so glad you find this fic interesting, it's exceeded my own expectations since I started it and I'm very satisfied with how the story has turned out. I wish I could answer your questions but that would ruin the story for you, I hope you'll be patient with me and keep on reading despite my slow updates! Thank you for reading and reviewing!**

 **GirlsOnly – CH45 : I agree, the story is finally moving forward, it was stagnant for a bit but for a reason! I know it focuses a great deal on Ashley and everybody is excited to also finally see some more interaction between her and Spencer; and there will be much more. I know there's a lot of questions regarding Spencer but in due time! There's still a lot of chapters left! Thank you for reading and reviewing, hope this chapter is satisfactory :)**

 **SoNFan – CH45 : I'm glad you're enjoying the progress with Spencer and Ashley! There's more of that to come! Thank you for reading and reviewing!**

 **Anjela78 – CH45 : Thank you so much for not giving up on this fic! I apologize for the very slow updates, I really am trying to get back to the regular updates! Wow, I hope the poor chichuahua is okay, that's terrible news :( Hope you have a wonderful day and thank you for reading and reviewing!**

 **TheDWall – CH45 : I'm glad the last chapter didn't disappoint! I'm holding off a bit on the Ashley/Kelly/Spencer saga, but there is a good reason for that, I hope it doesn't put everyone off! We'd all like to see Ashley get rid of Kelly but she needs a little nudge to keep her on her toes for now. Thanks for the compliment on my writing, I do try :) Thank you for reading and reviewing!**

* * *

 **Not afraid**

 **Sean Miller**

I found it weird, the way the world worked. The way people worked. The way people were wired, the way people reacted to things, the way they grew, the way some people just grew to a point and then stopped, some sadly even backpedalling.

It was interesting, the way the human brain worked. It was interesting to see how circumstances and the world around you could change your own behavior. Some people live by the Bible. Some people chose not to. Some people displayed deviant behavior - all on different levels. Some seek forgiveness, others don't.

The first time I met Ashley she was the epitome of deviance. Let the looks and her apparent confusion not deceive you. She was a cold-hearted killer and still is.

She's also, despite her profession and what it means about her as a person, very kind-hearted. Caring. Soft. Strong-willed.

But most off all; remorseful.

I would never condone killing; it was an act of total disregard of human life. I was a very hard person when it came to moral values and what's right and wrong.

But given this delicate situation, I've been forced to look at Ashley a different way. I still didn't understand how this bright young lady got herself into such a predicament. I still didn't understand how she lived with herself being such a monster.

But spending the past couple of months with her, seeing her come undone at her callous actions, I've realized that she was paying for her sins. Maybe in the eyes of society not the right way, like going to prison or being put on death row, but she was suffering the consequences on a level that no human being would understand. Not even my fellow ghosts understood, except perhaps Madison, on some level - because she tried to.

I also tried to be understanding and patient despite not owing her a damn thing. She did, after all, rob me of my life. Robbed my family of a husband and father. The list of people who'd been affected by my death was endless. So I shouldn't really, by the standards of society, be forgiving or even tolerating towards her.

It was such a tumultuous conflict within me. How could I ever forgive her for what she's done to me? My family. My friends.

But how could I expect her to release me without being a hypocrite, forcing her to kill the bastard who'd ordered a hit on me.

We were all hypocrites. Everybody goes through this at some point in their lives where they have to be a literal oxymoron.

I just wished the others would ease up on her a little. It would reduce the panic and confusion and allow her to think clearly.

It was evident that she was _not_.

Her motive for letting us go was not because she wanted to. Not that putting up with us was any fun - I was sure she couldn't wait until we disappeared from her life. But that soft, remorseful girl I was talking about? I knew she didn't want to kill anymore.

But conniving as Kelly was - like she's _always_ been - has helped nudge Ashley into this situation.

I couldn't say that I was _not_ happy about it, it's made Ashley make up her mind about pushing through with this.

But the threats on her love interest's life was _so_ Kelly. Ashley was doing the right thing by taking it seriously. No one knew the extent of what we as ghosts were capable of, _we_ didn't even know, but Kelly was evil. Has always been and seemed it would never change. I understood Kelly's bitterness, but it was clearly misdirected. And also, she never deserved Spencer anyway. Spence was _way_ too good for Kelly and I was relieved to some extent that things have turned out this way, no matter how heartbreaking it must have been to lose a loved one.

Speaking of the devil… I sighed as I heard her voice break Ashley's calmed silence at the front door.

"Had a good night?"

I couldn't help but smirk at Ashley's immediate annoyance towards the raven-haired ghost. I had to give it to her - she had nerves of steel to put up with Kelly's crap.

"Better than yours."

"You should introduce us soon. I'm sure she would love to get to know you better. You know, the Ashley _we_ know. Does your girlfriend know what you do for a living?"

And there it was. Remorse. Pain. Fear. It was all so clear in Ashley's eyes that I could perhaps look past my _own_ pain and anger towards her and maybe, just _maybe,_ be a little more understanding. _Forgiving_.

Though I haven't given her any crap at all - unlike everyone else - the resentment had been lingering closer to the surface the past couple of weeks.

But looking at her now, taking in how she shrunk away at Kelly's words and distanced herself, even physically trying to get away from the threats and true but painful words, I couldn't help but feel sorry for her.

Her life was a complete mess. With apparent memory loss and the state the accident left her, with the conscience of a killer and ghosts haunting her, with nothing to help her move forward other than the girl who'd warmed her cold heart, she was a mess.

"Everybody's in a good mood, don't ruin this Ashley. It's been long enough, we all want to go home."

Aiden was one to talk. I didn't particularly like the guy. I knew all about how he worked with Ashley and coordinated all her hits. I also knew the circumstances under which he told her to pull the trigger on him. It was noble back then, but now he had the audacity to hold it against her. And be smug about it.

"Well, what are you waiting for? Have any of you started digging? I can't build the case files by myself. I don't know who you all pissed off. I was only there to do my job."

Well, right back at you, Aiden. Ashley was careful with her wording but her temper and defenses were still up.

"Can you unlock your office so we can sit with you and do some research?"

My heart broke for Lily.

Of all of us she'd been the least receptive of her _ghost_ status. Being the brilliant investigative journalist she was, I could imagine that without any logical explanation, Lily couldn't make sense of what was happening. There were no hard facts. No medical or scientific clarification why we were in this situation, why we were here, as ghosts. We had no choice but to accept the situation we were in, as it was. But for a complex yet intellectual mind as Lily's, just accepting something so surreal was close to impossible.

So hearing her ask something that was so much part of the Lily Zee I knew, I realized that she was slowly making peace with the circumstances we found ourselves in.

I watched them all follow Ashley into her small study, except Sasha, who kept flicking through TV channels.

I had a suspicion what she was waiting for, and instead of making my presence known in Ashley's office, I gently slid onto the couch next to Sasha, the silence comfortable between us.

A good couple of minutes passed before Sasha finally paused on a news channel long enough for us to take in what's been happening in the world we were no longer part of.

While I scowled when Dan Miller's face filled the screen, Sasha flinched. She stared at the image of her father for a moment before turning to me.

"I'm sorry."

Sasha, just like Ashley, looked remorseful. But Sasha had no reason to be, she was not responsible for her father's actions.

"Sasha," I started softly, wishing I'd learned more about her before having to talk about her father.

"No, please, let me," Sasha begged before I could continue. I closed my mouth despite not wanting to hear an apology from her. It wasn't fair.

"I know I'm not him. I know what a monster he is. As bad as he is out there, it was the same behind closed doors. We both know that he's responsible for us being here. I bet you he probably had something on Lily too. We're all connected, Sean, don't you see?"

For the smart-ass lawyer I always thought I was, it felt pretty disconcerting to be told by the fresh out of high-school graduate that all the ghosts _were_ in fact connected in some way and none of us had even been able to see that.

I knew Boz, painfully close, Sasha's father, I knew Lily and even Kelly, also painfully too close. The only two ghosts who were not an immediate clarity was Aiden and Madison. But they knew each other. And they knew Ashley before she killed them.

"What? Didn't think we actually learn anything at school?" Sasha smirked.

I stared at the youngster, mouth agape. My mind was reeling, trying to connect more dots, trying to figure out if this entire killing spree of Ashley's had been a conspiracy of sorts. We were all linked, and our deaths were _politically_ linked.

The only person who was capable of sweeping such a huge mass murder under the rug was Dan Miller.

And looking at Sasha, I knew he'd succeeded. I didn't doubt for a second that he had something to do with his daughter's death. Such a complicated hit in such a daring environment… Ashley was hired because she was a pro.

I sighed, my hand reaching for my face, pinching my nose. This was a lot of information to take in. A lot of information to process, and certainly a lot to rethink.

If only Ashley could take out _just_ Dan Miller, and we all disappeared from her life, and she'd actually do the world a favor. No-one would hold it against her. She'd get killed herself, but she'd die a hero.

"He used to be my hero," Sasha interrupted my racing thoughts.

My eyes refocused on her, then the TV screen where they still had a dedicated channel reporting something that had happened somewhere in LA. 9th Division caught my eye in the background, and immediately my pulse quickened. "Can you turn up the volume a bit?"

I could see Sasha wasn't ready to hear her father's voice, but her thumb pressed down on the remote anyway, and thankfully, right after they switched over to a reporter outside of the police station.

 _"_ _I'm Stacey Keller reporting live for KTNS LA. We're down at 9th Division, a stellar precinct that was unable to withstand the angry citizens of LA as they forced entry into the station, rioting and demanding for Mayor Dan Miller to step down. Mayor Miller was on routine visit when the incident happened. After bombarding entrances by the rioting civilians, a gunman forced his way inside, opened fired, killing one officer and two civilians. He has since been taken into custody and charged with treason, attempted murder on the Mayor, and first degree murder on three counts."_

It felt for a second as if the world around me had stopped. This couldn't be… it was too close to home. I was about to grab towards a phone - _any_ phone - when I realized I couldn't phone up the Carlins to ensure Glen was okay. Not only were there no phones lying around, but I wasn't _able_ to phone.

Reality hit me hard. I wondered if I even still had a beating heart that could stop at shocking news like this. I wondered if it could break, if I'd feel the immense pain humans did if someone else close to me got hurt.

I watched with burning intensity as the reporter continued to explain what had happened.

 _"_ _Officer Sebastian Ford is survived by his high-school sweetheart of five years, his parents, and younger brother."_

Despite the temporary relief that Glen was unharmed, it still saddened me to learn that a fellow police officer had lost his life. He was so young and had his entire life ahead of him. _Had_. Just like Sasha, he was taken too soon.

"Wow… that's terrible…" Sasha murmured beside me.

I couldn't meet her gaze, afraid of the resentment and sadness I'd see. It was heartbreaking how the value of life had reduced to nothing to humankind.

 _"_ _Breaking news… reports are coming in that the wife of Sean Miller, deceased attorney who had been killed in the state versus Polit-Enterprises massacre last year, had been reported missing. Police are investigating and treating her disappearance as a kidnapping. This draws a disturbing picture of Mayor Dan Miller's presence in all these seemingly related cases, and his ability to lead and offer protection to the citizens of Los Angeles. Updates on the kidnapping case to follow soon."_

I may have wondered about ghosts having a pulse, but I was positive right now that _something_ in me stopped. If I was breathing, it became erratic. My ghostly hands were visibly shaking.

"Sean-"

I could hear Sasha speaking, but it wasn't really registering. All I could think of was my baby girl and Kevin, my now five year old son. Where _were_ they? Who was looking after them? And what happened to Danielle?

I could feel her hand on my shoulder - oddly considering we were ghosts - and when I finally turned to face Sasha and looked into her eyes, we both knew.

She looked apologetic but I could see the worry in her eyes.

"I'm so sorry," she whispered. "We need to tell Ashley. She can fix this. She _has_ to."

In that moment, I found the clarity I so desperately needed right now.

I didn't care about Ashley and Kelly's constant bickering. I didn't care that Kelly had to go to spare us our sanity. I didn't care that Ashley had to get rid of her in order to save a life.

I just didn't care.

I wanted my wife back. I needed to know that my children were safe.

And I wanted justice. I wanted Dan Miller _gone_.

Ashley owed me that much.

* * *

 **Not Afraid – Eminem**


	47. All that you have is your soul

**A/N: I hope this update was fast enough! I know it's a very long fic and I just really want to thank each and everyone, with or without reviews, for reading and sticking to my story! It's been an incredible journey so far and I couldn't have done it without you guys!**

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 **ToriDub – CH46 : I'm glad that you saw what I was doing with Sean's POV. At the end of the day that is what we want after all, clean slates and two girls in love ;) I hope some of your questions will be answered in this chapter, and possibly the next bunch in succession. That inevitable peak is just a chapter or two away so please don't give up on me :) I'm sorry you've been going through a tough time and I was glad that my chapter update could cheer you up a little. So, here's another one! PS, thank you for the well wishes, life is almost back to normal! Thank you so much for reading and reviewing!**

 **SoNFan – CH46 : I get so excited when I read 'great chapter' – sometimes I really worry that things are just stalling! Hope you enjoy this one too! Thank you so much for reading and reviewing!**

 **K1989 – CH46 : Thank you for the well wishes :) I'm much better and it's so refreshing to be able to update again! I'm so glad you liked the chapter and really hope you'll like this one too. I don't want to make any promises but the next two chapters are begging to go up too (very soon), once you get to read them you'll know why ;) I wish I could answer your questions about Spencer but it is safe to say that you'll find out a lot more about her in about 10 chapters – if I don't end up reshuffling anything. I blame the music industry for that entirely. Not my fault I keep finding suitable songs! Anyway, there'll be some more breath holding – especially in this chapter. You can hate me, it's okay… I'll make up for it soon :P Thank you so much for reading and reviewing!**

 **GirlsOnly – CH46 : I liked the way how you said it summed up everything Ashley had been going through, though it made me feel kindof stupid to have taken 46 chapters to get there! ;) Hot Spashley moments… a little bit in this chapter and maybe a lot of it in the next… am I giving away too much? Thank you for the compliments on my writing! Thank you so much for reading and reviewing!**

 **Anjela78 – CH46 : Wow, you have an incredibly busy schedule – suddenly I feel like there shouldn't be any more excuses from me for being slow on updates! I'm so glad the Chihuahua is doing better, 4-legged friends are after all, man's best friend! In some cases they're even family! I feel you with the bus drivers, we have the same unfortunate fate when it comes to public transport, so people who can avoid it do, but sadly economic circumstances don't allow for everyone to have safety on the roads in their own hands. Anyway, thank you for the New Year's and Easter wish, that is very kind of you! I promise to update again before Easter (I bet this update even came as a surprise!) and will send something appropriate then :) I hope you enjoy this chapter, and the ones following; there's lots of action, drama – and love, to follow! And yes, there will absolutely be a happy ending! Thank you so much for reading and reviewing!**

 **Guest – CH46 : I know this is a long fic but thank you for sticking with it! A little birdie told me another Kyla chapter might come very soon – don't forget to check in for updates! Thank you so much for reading and reviewing!**

* * *

 **Ashley**

 **All that you have is your soul**

I found it exceptionally hard to concentrate on anything except the magical feeling of butterflies fluttering in my stomach. While Lily tapped away, her nails clicking furiously on my laptop's keyboard - doing apparent research - I could just sit there and stare blankly, my mind a million miles away.

I wasn't even sure how Lily was able to do that - I was certainly not able to throw a mug at Aiden a couple of months ago, neither throw punches at Kelly like I so desperately wanted to. It was all merely a fleeting thought, my brain already focused on a certain blonde again.

My pulse increased tenfold just at the memory of her bright blue eyes, her soft smile, the way she fell asleep on my chest with her head right underneath my chin and one hand clutching the fabric of my shirt. Our bodies were molded together so perfectly - as if we'd been made for each other - like two puzzle pieces fitting into place.

Had I not been sitting on the extra office chair, I'd collapse to the floor the way my legs turned to mush. I closed my eyes, trying to commit every minute we spent together to memory. Every single thing counted, no matter how small.

And then there was the kiss. It lasted for several minutes; starting light blending to mild blending to a heated intensity that I couldn't put the right words to. Who would be able to anyway, with an amazing girl like Spencer? I doubted that she could ever be defined by just one word.

"... And - Are you even _listening_?"

Reality had never been so annoying until Kelly came into my life.

My eyes popped open and I glanced up to glare at the vexatious ex-fiancé of a widowed woman who was so much better off without her.

What I saw in Kelly's eyes scared me. It was as if she knew my thoughts were elsewhere, and it was quite obvious that she knew on _whom_.

Aiden had the same kind of look, a look of _revenge_ , while Madison stared over Lily's shoulder at the laptop screen.

I almost looked at them pleadingly to leave Spencer out of this. But if I appeared weak, Kelly knew she'd get to me with her persistent threats. Whether she'd make good on them I'd never know, but I wasn't willing to risk it to find out. I'd rather kill her and the person who ordered the hit on her ten times over, than put Spencer's life in danger.

So I put my bitch-face on and cleared my throat. "Listening to what?"

"I'll need to get access to some institutions' computers. One of them is San Francisco Med. The other is a personal laptop, but I'm sure I'll be able to pull that off," Kelly said matter-of-factly.

Lily scoffed and stared at Kelly, mouth agape. "You _can't_ be serious, Kelly."

Kelly sneered bitterly. "Oh, I'm _dead_ serious. Think about it, Lily. They pretended to love me but in actual fact they _hated_ me. They knew I was going to ask her to marry me, and I don't believe for a second that Paula was very happy with that. If it wasn't her, it was them, there's just too much motive and -"

I watched Lily shake her head furiously, her features sad as she regarded Kelly's words. I found it interesting that they all knew each other, and even each other's families.

As much as I wanted to side with Lily, I could imagine how Kelly's fiancé-to-be's parents hated her. _I_ hated her and I barely knew her. Was it worth ordering a hit on her? Probably not. Was the ex-fiancé better off without Kelly? Most probably _yes_.

"You're wrong, Kelly. The Carlins wouldn't hurt a fly, and you know it."

My heart stopped for a split-second. A cold shiver ran down my spine and I couldn't help interrupting them right there. "Hold on, did you say _Carlins_? At _San Francisco Med_?"

No, no, no this couldn't be. My mind raced back to the times I was in Arthur Carlin's office, trying to remember the children on the black-and-white family portraits. I could only vaguely remember the girl; at the time I was much more focused on the adopted son, Clay. Who'd not yet made an appearance and which I was very grateful for.

But Kelly? Linked to the Carlins? It was just way too unsettling. An uneasiness settled in my stomach and it felt like I was about to throw up again.

"Well, how many Carlins are there in Frisco? Who else-"

"Ashley. You need to help me. I'm sorry Kelly, but you'll have to wait," Sean panted, appearing in the door, Sasha right behind him.

This was all too much for me. My focus shifted, the uneasiness getting worse. Bile was already in my throat and I wondered if I was being too active too soon. Spencer would definitely be disappointed if I got even sicker now.

The brief thought of the blue-eyed blonde calmed me down instantly.

I took a deep breath, willing myself to process one thing at a time, and fixed my attention on Sean and Sasha. "What's going on?"

Sean stepped inside the office completely to give Sasha some room to join us. They both looked equally worried. Anxiety radiated off of their perfect complexions, something I haven't experienced before within the time I'd gotten to know my ghosts.

"My wife's been kidnapped. There's a huge political war still going on, my firm had been continuing without us there. There's only one person who'd resort to this. I don't know where my kids are, if they're okay. You need to help me, Ashley. You _owe_ me this."

I felt slightly better about things - I could most likely help Sean. And I _would_ \- he didn't even have to ask. But Kelly and her family saga was still nagging at the back of my mind, and I wanted to know more. I needed to get to the bottom of things - especially with regards to Kelly. And the Carlins. There was just no way that the doctors who had helped save my life, could be the kind of people to take another. Not even for the sake of their daughter.

I wanted to ask more, but Sean's situation took precedence over everything else. If they were all politically linked, chances were that she was still alive. They would have killed her otherwise. They would have ordered a hit on her, just like I'd assassinated good, innocent people so many times.

I offered Sean my chair so he could sit beside Lily, who'd already logged into a news channel so we could see updated reports.

There wasn't much yet, and I could see the frustration boiling. Between Sean, Sasha, and Lily, they were convinced that Dan Miller was indeed the mastermind behind this. I didn't doubt that for a second, but in my experience, I didn't think Dan Miller ordered the hits himself. He wouldn't get his hands dirty like that - he'd get someone to do it _for_ him.

"It's not Dan Miller," Aiden confirmed my thoughts. He too, knew that people at the top seldom did the dirty deeds.

"If it's not him, then who? There's no-one else, Aiden. No-one! It's political and we were a threat to Dan!" Sean exclaimed, his hands thrown up in the air. "We still are!"

I watched with awe as he ruffled his impeccably styled hair in anger but nothing happened.

Sasha cleared her throat and I was saddened by her words. "Those orders came from my father. If not directly from him, it would be someone close. Someone who'd be second in charge, and take the reins if he had to go. Someone who would willingly go down with him."

I didn't want to ask the question but knew I had to. "Do you think… do you think he had something to do with your hit?" My throat closed up and a searing pain shot through my temples as I relived the moment that bullet penetrated Sasha's skull. It was still one of the most disgusting and gruesome things I have ever done. I'd never forgive myself for taking her life.

Sasha laughed ruefully. "He may have had the title of a father but he was never a dad. Not since he became Mayor anyway. I don't know the motive for wanting to get rid of me, but Sean and Lily's reasons are quite obvious. Maybe he thought he'd get some sympathy from the public and take off the pressure of his unlawful dealings because I died. I don't know. I just know that the only enemies he had was himself. People didn't hate our family; they hated him for doing the wrong thing while being such an important public figure."

I was confused. Was it really possible for your own family to be so callous? "Are you sure? Maybe someone thought they couldn't get through your dad that's why they decided-"

"Ashley," Sasha sighed. "It was my dad. We're making it easy for you. _He's_ making it easy for you. We just need to find out who he got to order the hits."

I almost sighed out in relief. If that was the case, it meant less people for me to kill. It didn't make it easier, but if one person alone was responsible for Sean, Sasha and Lily's hit orders, perhaps I had enough reason to go just a smidge bit easier on myself, knowing someone else out there was as cold-hearted as I was.

"Okay, wait, are you guys _serious_ right now?" Kelly asked, exasperated. She walked up to me and planted herself right in front of me, _so_ close, that if she was a human, I'd feel her exhaling into my face. "You're just going to ignore my case and move on to _theirs_?"

I could honestly not believe the audacity of this woman. No wonder people wanted her dead.

"Kelly, Sean's _wife_ is missing. She's still alive, and has a chance to _stay_ alive, don't you get that?" I asked calmly. But inside I was terrified of what her reaction was going to be. If she couldn't even have compassion towards this delicate situation, I couldn't see how she'd forget about going after Spencer now.

"Kelly, it's for my children, _please_ , I beg you, just let her help me," Sean appealed to her. "Wouldn't you want the same if Sp-"

The devil was in her eyes as she lashed out at Sean. "Don't you _dare_ talk about her! I'm here because of her and her family, and I will _prove_ it to you."

My confusion about the Carlins and my concern about Spencer's safety increased exponentially. Kelly was dangerous, and what I saw in her eyes just proved to me that she simply _had_ to go.

"Ashley…" Sean pleaded once more, his own eyes filled with desperation.

I was slowly starting to come undone. The ghosts were all staring at me with these impossible expectations. Under normal circumstances I'd be able to get rid of them one by one. But I've run out of time, and matters have exploded in my face. It was no longer normal circumstances – not that it had ever been.

But now, more than ever, I had to make decisions and take action.

If only it _didn't_ concern the only love I've ever found…

* * *

There was a subtle pounding right behind my closed eyelids, emanating from a location in my skull I couldn't exactly pinpoint.

I groaned and put weight on my elbows to try and sit up, but two strong hands held me firmly in place.

"No Ash, don't get up."

My eyes popped open in shock. I was utterly surprised to find Spencer hovering over me, her own eyes colored with a dark shade of concern.

"What happened?" I couldn't help but look around and take in my surroundings. I was in my room, on my bed. _In_ my bed. There was a looming fear pressing against my chest that I may have passed out again.

This was going to be a serious problem.

Spencer smiled softly and it immediately set me at ease. Her fingers lazily swiped away stray strands of hair from my eyes. "Nothing happened; I think you just had a nightmare. You've been groaning for a while now." She reached out towards my nightstand and offered me some water. "Are you in pain?"

My head was pounding, I knew that much. I told her so and she reached out again, pressing through a blister pack to hand me a painkiller.

"Did I pass out?" I had to know. I had to know whether to worry about Kelly, or worry about being readmitted to hospital. And as a result, worry about Spencer _and_ Kelly.

Spencer eyed me carefully. "No… you didn't faint, if _that's_ what you're asking… You don't remember me coming in? Feeding you dinner?"

Panic was at the surface; I could feel my breath shortening and the pounding turn into a dizzy spell. "No, not at all."

Spencer's hand was instantly on my chest, and instead of panicking herself, she took slow breaths and ordered me to follow suit. "You're okay. I've been here the entire time. I won't let anything happen to you," she gently reassured me. "Just take it easy. Deep, slow breaths."

Her words made me want to cry out of sheer relief. It also made me want to cry because the way she cared for me made me feel undeserving yet so desperate to be loved.

I fervently grabbed towards her hand still on my chest and just held on for dear life, closing my eyes to savor the moment. Tears squeezed through the corners of my eyes as I forced myself to calm down. Perhaps if I gave myself some time to properly wake up, Spencer could recap our evening together and I'd remember.

"I'm not going anywhere," Spencer whispered, her free hand gently wiping at the tears.

It was painful. So very painful. All I wanted was to pull her into me and hold her until we both died of old age right here in my bed. But I couldn't.

I had some unfinished business to take care of; the kind of business that was going to make me lose this amazing girl.

I was unable to hold back the sobs as the realization hit me. My voice was small as I asked the one question that was so unfair towards her. "Do you promise me?"

Spencer nodded without hesitation and no idea what she was promising me. I was going to hell for this. I was going to suffer eternal solitude and burn to ashes for making her love a killer. For making her promise without knowing the full truth.

She kicked off her sneakers and snuggled into my side under the covers. Her head and hand found residence on my chest again and I couldn't help grabbing selfishly towards her fingers, slowly bringing her palm up to my lips. My eyes were still closed but I knew exactly where to kiss. The additional deeper lines on her left hand still had me intrigued since that very second day; the day she came back to the coffee shop to return my hoodie. I knew the scars were sensitive but I held her hand tightly while showering the pain away with kisses, the very same way she kissed and hugged and reassured my own deep wounds into healing.

I could hear her whimper, encouraging me not to stop with my ministrations. And I didn't.

As confused and broken and undone as I felt, nothing mattered more than making Spencer feel good. So I let go of everything else, and told her how I felt the only way I knew how.

* * *

 **All that you have is your soul – Tracy Chapman**


	48. What it's like

**A/N: It's 5AM on a Saturday morning and I literally only have that last few sentences to structure and finish… So… Surprise! Apologies if there's any grammar issues, this chapter just absolutely could not wait another second! Read and find out why ;)**

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 **ToriDub – CH47 : You put the nail right on the head; Ashley is stressed and that is exactly why she's not putting two and two together :) Like I said previously, a lot of your questions will be answered now as we go. And the Spashley chapter everybody's been dying for (no pun intended!) will follow after this. Hold on to your seat for the action and drama! Thank you so much for sticking to this fic so loyally, it's much appreciated! And thank you for the review :)**

 **SoNFan – CH47 : It put a smile on my face that you were happy about the quick update. Here's another one! Enjoy! Thanks for the review!**

* * *

 **Kyla**

 **What it's like**

"Kyla, you need to go see someone."

I stared at Debbie in apprehension. While I knew she was right – the half empty whiskey bottle in my hand justified _that_ reasoning – I had no interest in humoring her.

She was still blissfully mistaking my behavior for trauma, a false blanket I used to cover up what I was truthfully torn about.

"Come on, you would be as annoying as _I_ was if our roles were reversed, wouldn't you?" she asked gently.

Her words were just that to me – _words_. I knew I was wrong in pushing my best friend away. And I knew if our roles were reversed I _would_ have pushed until the old Debbie was back. I was the master of annoyance in that department.

But she wouldn't understand. No-one would understand. How did I explain this mess to her? How did I explain _Ashley's_ mess to her? There were some huge moral decisions to be made here, and I wasn't sure if I was ready for any of it. And I sure as hell wasn't going to let anyone else make the decision _for_ me.

"Can you leave me alone, please?"

I felt utterly ashamed for being such an indifferent bitch. But when all of this was over, _if_ it would ever be over, I hoped that the bond Debbie and I had shared over the years would be strong enough to help our friendship recover. I wished we were already there – far ahead into the future where I'd gladly beg and do anything to restore things with Debbie. I'd gladly be _anywhere_ but here, in this situation.

I didn't want to make any decisions. But I had to. There was no moving on from this without doing so.

Debbie sighed out loud. "If that's what you really want. I'm going out tonight. Just… in case you wanted to know."

I'd forgotten that she was even still in my room.

I looked up from my desk – all evidence of Ashley's existence carefully hidden – my eyes trailing Debbie as she dejectedly left my room.

* * *

I waited until I heard the front door close softly with a click before I scraped back my desk chair, my legs pins and needles after sitting without purpose the entire day. I didn't even know when Debbie had decided to move in – it was slightly disturbing to see so many of her belongings now occupying my lounge.

But it was hard to care. Hard to take it all in and accept Debbie's persistence for what it was.

I wandered around aimlessly; opening and closing kitchen cupboard doors, inspecting fresh contents in the fridge, casually checking my alcohol stash behind cleaning detergents under the sink… A bolt of anger surged through me; my body trembling and my face heating up as I stared at – nothingness.

Debbie had been snooping. And Debbie threw out some very expensive whiskey.

I was livid. But at the same time _so_ incredibly numb that I could only laugh at the situation. Surely Debbie must have known that I wasn't _that_ stupid? But as I opened more cupboards, frantically pushing aside groceries, linen, towels, toiletries, DVD's and even clothes in my dresser, I was starting to lose my nerve. She _did_ throw out everything. Every last drop, worth over two grand.

The money wasn't the issue, however. The lack of specially imported, _good_ -tasting whiskey wasn't the issue either.

I grabbed towards the closest object within reach – the tumbler on my desk with the last quarter of alcohol left – and hurled it across my room. It shattered to pieces and left a huge mess on my carpet, enraging me even more.

 _That_ was the issue. How _dared_ she? How _dared_ Debbie elicit emotions from me without my consent? I didn't _want_ to feel. Not now, and not for at least another ten years.

But the damage was done, and Debbie was lucky to have gone out. My anger was misdirected and I knew I would unfairly take everything out on her.

Or perhaps _I_ was the lucky one that Debbie wasn't here. She was my best friend, and at the end of the day, she was the one person I couldn't live without.

* * *

Jack's wasn't nearly as packed as I anticipated, and I was grateful not to find Debbie anywhere in sight. Not that I had to look around much; aside from pain-in-the-ass Paige, and a handful of other patrons, the bar was practically empty.

"Kyla! What brings you here on a Tuesday night?"

I slid onto a bar stool, my hands gripping tightly onto the worn wood of the counter top as I tried to steady myself. Debbie may have chucked out my alcohol supply but not fast enough for me not to get drunk. "Tuesday?" I chuckled. "Are you trying to mess with me, Jack?"

What was _up_ with everyone?

Jack frowned and stopped cleaning out the glass intended for my usual JD. I watched with hawk eyes as he tossed his faithful old cloth back over his shoulder and returned the tumbler to the line of similar glassware. His hand hovered over the rows of delicate utensils until his fingers finally wrapped around a highball.

I shot daggers at him with my eyes as he presented me with iced water. "What is this?"

Jack's eyes softened. "This is people caring about you."

I didn't mean to do it with so much force, but the glass toppled over, spilling the cold water all over Jack as I roughly pushed it back towards him. My eyes went wide but the apology died on my lips as he held up his hands in retaliation.

"It's better you don't say anything until you really mean it."

I was about to interrupt him with another attempt of an apology, but unlike me, Jack was sober and sharp.

"Why don't you go sit in your usual booth and I'll get you a strong black coffee? You don't even have to drink it, just…" Jack paused, his eyes clouded with concern. "I'll give you _one_ whiskey… If you promise to sit there for a while? Just so I can keep an eye on you?"

The glazed look I've had for who-knows-how-long disappeared a little, and I allowed myself to really look at Jack. We've known each other for almost six years, and he's become something like a father-figure to myself and Debbie.

It was wrong of me to be such a bitch to him, just like I've been to Debbie. It also killed me that I was acting so disrespectful towards them. But where was the manual for _me_? How was I supposed to act? After all these years, giving up my life, time, money, my sanity, my soul, to search for a sister who was a serial killer? Who wasn't some sad, lonely girl, locked up and tortured by her monster of a mother. Who wasn't in distress. Who probably didn't have a hard life and had no idea what suffering was! She didn't even regard the value of life!

My inner monologue was thankfully interrupted by a large, calloused hand covering mine, still on the counter.

I focused on Jack again, on his crinkled, soft, fatherly eyes, and felt tears welling up in my own. He was offering me a chance to get it all off my chest, or a chance to reminisce in silence for a bit longer without being self-deprecating.

My voice was teary and I sniffled a couple of times before sliding off the bar stool, wiping my puffy eyes in the process.

Jack smiled widely when I chose the coffee over the whiskey.

* * *

"What do you want, Paige?"

I didn't even have to look up to know who stood hesitantly beside the seat across from me. Her repulsive sweet perfume – reminding me of car air-freshener – announced Paige's presence all by itself.

I kept my gaze trained on the black substance in the contrasting white cup. Jack had filled it up twice by now. I found no comfort in it other than the warmth it offered my fingers encircling the cup.

If anything, the coffee just made things worse. I didn't want to be sober to deal with Paige of all people.

"I don't want anything, I just came to see if you're okay."

My head jerked up so fast it felt like my eyes were about to pop out. Paige looked anything _but_ the boisterous girl we'd gotten to know – also, for the past six years. Though Debbie and I generally avoided her, her presence and lame attempts to pick us up was strangely missed whenever she didn't show up at the bar.

She was a pretty girl – well, I was sure all the other girl-loving-girls agreed since Paige always had someone on her lap. So it baffled me that after all this time, she hadn't thought to settle down.

"I know we're not exactly friends, but it looked like you could do with some company." She begged with her eyes until I finally relented and nodded, allowing her to slide into the booth. I hoped she wasn't expecting me to do any talking.

"It's obvious that you don't want to talk about it, and if you _did_ , Debbie would be here instead of me. But I am a good listener, despite what people think of me."

I stared at her for a long time. So long, in fact, that she finally blushed and looked down, giving me the courage to concentrate on something else. Something completely irrelevant.

"Why do you do it?" I asked softly. I didn't want to come across as judgmental – as if I could judge anyway. I was a yoga-instructor with way too much money and couldn't commit to relationships or marriage because my life was dedicated to track down my estranged serial killer sister.

But I _did_ wonder about Paige sometimes.

We frequented this very same bar for the past almost-six-years _together_. Didn't she crave happiness? _Stability_?

Paige wasn't offended. "I guess I'm waiting for the right one? Isn't that the same reason you and Debbie always hang out here?"

I shrugged, unintentionally letting out more than I meant to. "Well, yeah… but I'm kind of emotionally unavailable and Debs… well, I don't even know. She's just always been by my side. Ever since we grew up."

"But you've dated. I mean, both of you have been here with guys for long periods of time. At least that's something." Paige sounded somewhat sad. As if she'd been trying to find that one person, but just never seemed to come across her.

I frowned. "Perhaps you've been looking in the wrong place? I mean, it's always the same people coming here."

The tiniest hint of a smile lit up her face.

"Unless…" I didn't know how it was possible, but Paige, of all people, managed to put a smile on my face for the first time in _weeks_. "Paige… do you have a _crush_ on someone?"

I felt a little bit of 'me' returning as Paige smiled shyly. I could do this – I could have a sober conversation without even having to think about it. Girl-talk and chit-chatting came naturally to me!

"Well, yeah… I do, but…" she trailed off, that sadness back in her eyes.

Understanding dawned on me. "But?" I asked gently. "She's taken?" My heart broke for her before she even answered.

Paige laughed nervously and covered her face with her hands. "I don't even know. She… she's not from here. Not from New York, I mean." She paused for a second before looking at me in embarrassment. "I'm pathetic, right?"

Yes. "No, no not at all! It's okay to have a crush on someone, Paige," I placated her.

I watched her cheeks tint a shade darker. "Well, it's not just a crush. We kinda… we've slept together a couple of times."

I cringed and she blushed. This girl needed some serious intervention in her life.

"Define _slept together_." I judged, I knew, and I was a bitch. I wondered how often this so called-crush came to the bar, and if I've ever seen her. And which stall they used, because now I'd have to go for health checkups and knowing Paige…

Her eyebrows scrunched together. "Are you _judging_ me?" she asked incredulously.

If I had to be totally honest… I should've seen that coming. My moods went up and down faster than a see-saw and if Paige slapped some sense into me I wouldn't even protest.

So I tried to backtrack. "I didn't mean it like _that_. It's just, sex in bathroom stalls are just one night stands and –"

"Ashley's not a one-night stand, okay?" My wind got knocked out by her words the same time fingerprints left a sting – and probably a mark – on my left cheek.

" _What_ did you just say?" Was it reasonable to ask Google how many Ashleys there were in the world?

Paige and I were no longer on the same _page_. She was ready to pounce again while I had to think very fast to keep her from attacking me and feed me information. She took a deep, calculated breath. "I _said_ – "

This was going too slow. "I know what you said, for fuck's sake!" My emotional stability was becoming rather questionable. "Who is this Ashley? What does she look like?"

Paige was still on the defensive, but somewhere, deep within the cobwebs, a candle was finally lit. She narrowed her eyes at me, staring so intently that I eventually felt uncomfortable. She was making a connection and I dreaded every second longer in her presence.

"I don't know what sick game you guys are playing, Kyla, but _fuck_ _you_. And _fuck_ your sister. You can give her that message when you see her."

And there it was.

I was out of my seat, ready to run. As far away from reality and the truth as I could.

But I haven't counted on our sudden very interested audience, including a new face. I would forever be grateful towards Jack, who despite never having kids of his own, had enough fatherly instinct to get the one person who mattered most to come and help. The one person I _did_ consider a sister.

My eyes welled up and there was no way I could stop the tears as I found Debbie staring at me, her eyes wide, her mouth the shape of an ' _O'_. Intellectually, she was a lot smarter than I was. I knew from her expression that she'd heard everything, and the dots were already connected.

And like I feared all along, she didn't push, she didn't force me to talk, she didn't ask any questions. Her arms were around me in an instant, leading me to sit back down.

She scooted into the booth right next to me, comforting me with direct contact.

It wasn't on the menu, but Jack has been through endless breakups with us. He handed Debbie his very special bourbon milkshake-concoction which she, in turn, slid towards me.

"Take a deep breath, and then a small sip. You know the drill." Debbie's hand was on my back, comforting me, while she turned slightly to Paige.

"You can leave now. And Paige…" I heard Debbie say softly. Gently.

None of this was her fault, after all.

"Girl to girl, friend to friend… you need to forget about Ashley. She won't be coming back anytime soon."

* * *

It's been one of the longest nights of my life. Now that Debbie knew everything, as in _everything_ , it was time to make a decision and take action.

She'd compared the photographs – one could never be too sure – and just as I thought, the woman in that car was definitely Ashley.

Though Jack was completely left in the dark about my home life this entire time, unaware that I've been searching for a sister-slash-killer for so long, he immediately recognized her face from the school photograph we showed him.

It made me sick to know she'd been in New York, the same suburb, the same _bar_ , and I never even realized. My stomach churned when I wondered what on earth she was even doing here.

She paid cash at the bar every single time so there was no way we could build up a timeline with credit card slips. She was a pro – leaving behind no footprints. Jack only remembered their first encounter from when he saw her ID and they watch the news together.

"Are you sure about this?" Debbie asked, sitting down on the couch next to me. She held my phone in her hand, giving me a chance to reconsider.

She wasn't judging. She wasn't going to do or say anything unless I asked her to. She was first and foremost my best friend. My pillar of support. And she'd always be, like she promised over and over through the night as I tearfully told her everything I'd discovered.

I took a deep breath, my hand reaching towards the small device, eyes trained on my best friend while my heart thumped incredibly hard against my chest.

She wasn't judging me. I had her full support, no matter what I chose to do.

"I'm sure."

I swallowed hard, the lump in my throat impossibly large as my fingers wrapped around my phone, slipping away from the safety of Debbie's hand.

I forced myself to look at the screen as I scrolled through the ever expanding contact list until I finally found the number I was looking for.

A handful of feelings attacked my senses as a trembling finger pressed down slightly on the green button. I felt nauseous and sad and nervous. And angry, so very angry. But most of all, I felt devastated.

 _"Hello?"_

Who cared about different time zones and early morning phone calls when you could solve mysteries and murder cases?

"Detective Carlin? It's Kyla Woods. We need to talk."

* * *

 **What it's like - Everlast**


	49. Stay

**A/N: Wow you guys! The response after that last chapter was out of this world! Thank you all so much! I'm extremely nervous about posting this chapter, go easy on me, okay?**

* * *

 **Guest – CH48 : I'm a little scared to assume that your reaction was** ** _not_** **out of anger. I can't apologize about the chapter but what I can say is sorry for delaying that part of the story with what's coming up next. Thank you for the compliment :) And thank you for reading and reviewing!**

 **ToriDub – CH48 : As much as I laughed that all your theories now have little strings of doubt, I do feel a tiny bit sorry for doing it ;) But this was planned way before the story even started, so you can't blame me! It was just supposed to happen that way! Thank you, really, for that very generous compliment. I'm not a professional writer but I do have something I want to get published in the near future – perhaps that will encourage me to write even more :) Thanks for reading and all the fantastic reviews!**

 **SoNFan – CH48 : I won't keep you hanging for too much longer, but this chapter had to happen first, sorry ;) Thank you for reading and always loyally reviewing!**

 **K1989 – CH48 : If you liked that Ashley was trying to keep Spencer safe before, you might like her in this chapter too. Like** ** _her_** **and hate** ** _me_** **. Something like that. I'm anxious to see what your reaction is going to be after you read this. Thank you for reading and always reviewing!**

 **GirlsOnly – CH48 : I have to agree with you there, I also like the Kyla chapters in this story. I really liked her character in SON, and I try to put as much as I can into it to make her the 'good-hearted' person she was, despite the IT-girls and drugs and stuff she got involved with. Thank you for the compliments, I really appreciate it. Though after this you might not feel the same anymore… Thanks for reading and all the great reviews!**

 **SON4LIFE – CH48 : It's really awesome that old readers come back, I hope you'll keep checking in for a while after this fic is done, I do have some other stories in mind too if you enjoy my writing style. Thank you for reading and reviewing!**

* * *

 **Warning! This chapter is rated M**

 **It's easy to read, it's easy to imagine, but it's definitely not easy to write! I hope my attempt at writing a little intimacy does justice! Kelly was also a bit vulgar in this chapter, so please forgive me! This time** ** _I'm_** **the one holding my breath when you guys read this. You're going to love me, and then you're absolutely going to hate me…**

* * *

 **Ashley**

 **Stay**

The sun was already shyly breaking through the gaps in the curtains, announcing the end of a night we had yet to let go of. Swollen lips met my own and I briefly closed my eyes, inhaling life breathed into me for the umpteenth time. A slight moan escaped me as soft hands gently squeezed and then pressed on my naked breasts, alerting my senses of what was to come. We'd done this routine on repeat through the entire night.

I cracked open an eye, following Spencer's every move as she readjusted herself on top of me – a position we both seemed to have fallen in love with – with a mischievous smile on her face as she pulled away from my lips. Her hips ground into mine and the moan soon became a groan.

"Just checking you're still awake," she teased. Curious fingertips found my nipples and I was ready to explode.

My hands found residence on her hips, stilling her for a moment.

We got caught in a staring moment, my heart hammering hard against my chest as Spencer's head tilted, her hair falling into her face. But her eyes were still on mine, questioning my motive for stopping her ministrations on my satisfied, overly exhausted, yet worked up body.

"Good morning," I chuckled, my throat raw and voice raspy.

The chuckle became a full-on laugh as Spencer's eyes went wide, her head snapping up, first towards the alarm clock on my nightstand, and then the windows. "Oh crap! I kept you up all night?"

Her intention was to get off of me but I was too worked up for her to leave me on the edge like that. My fingers dug into her hips, keeping her in place.

Spencer frowned at me, the mischief she'd worn so well replaced with concern and guilt. "I'm such a bad nurse. You're supposed to rest, not –"

My hands were at the back of her head, bringing her down to me before she could finish. "Oh, you've been the best." I planted a soft kiss on her lips. "Nurse." And another one, this time a second longer. "Ever. You've been taking care of _all_ my needs."

This time _Spencer_ moaned, her body visibly relaxing as I continued leaving soft kisses all over her face. The moment her hands came to rest beside my head to keep herself up, I folded my legs around her waist and rolled us over, effectively putting me on top, and in charge.

Spencer let out a whimper as I tugged on her delicate lips with my teeth, soothing it seconds later with my tongue. I've been mostly docile all night, letting her take the reins. And while we both thoroughly enjoyed it, I thought to end it on a high note – preferably from Spencer moaning my name. So it was my turn.

My turn to show her that my language of love was through touch.

My turn to tell her how much she meant to me and how I appreciated everything she's done for me.

I took a moment to soak up her beauty, earning a blush from her in return. She was most beautiful when she was naked – and not in the way you'd think. Her nakedness did not only expose her tanned, slender body, it also exposed what was underneath that flawless, soft skin. And while I'd gotten to know the youthful, yet extremely caring Spencer over the past couple of months, I never had the opportunity to learn more about her. About random little scars; the one on her left eyebrow, the small one just below her sternum, the lines on her hand from the dog-attack. I wanted to learn about what made her tick, what made her happy. About her past and her family and her childhood and things she could remember about herself that I couldn't remember about _myself_. There was still so much I wanted to know about her, but the one thing I wondered about most, I'd learnt through the night. It took nine hours of passionate lovemaking to discover that I was indeed, able to fall in love with someone.

My heart was completely with this girl who stared up at me shyly, trusting me to take care of her heart in return.

In this moment, with Spencer, both of us naked and exposed, nothing and no-one else existed. "You're so beautiful," I croaked out, words failing me. I didn't give her a chance to reply. My lips were on hers again, only for a short, soft kiss before I moved along. Down her jaw line, down the side of her neck. I loved how she whimpered again and gave me more access to suck and leave little bite marks, each time kissing it better before moving to the next spot. Her collarbone was exquisite. I spent a generous amount of time there before moving further down, first planting gentle butterfly kisses down her sternum, then moving on to sensitive parts that had her squirming underneath me.

Her breasts were perfect. My tongue circled the word _love_ on both nipples and I enjoyed how her fingers started adding pressure on my back. It was delightful how the slightest trace of nails started digging into me. A groan of my own escaped me.

However much I thoroughly enjoyed the kissing and teasing, we were both getting too worked up to continue like this for much longer. My palms flattened on her chest as my mouth started moving along again, lower and lower until her own hands grabbed towards my head, clutching my hair in a vice grip of note. I smiled against her skin, wanting so badly to keep on teasing, loving the reaction I was getting from her.

Her hips were starting to get a life of its own, urging me to move down as it lifted off the bed. With my palms still flat against her skin, I dragged my hands down her sides, reveling in the way I could feel her ribs through her soft skin, her ragged breathing, even the slight sheen of sweat that's been steadily building up. It came to rest on the possessed hips, firmly keeping it there until she calmed down.

And then I went for the kill.

The loud wail Spencer let out was like music to my ears.

She _tasted_ like love. She _felt_ like love. My tongue kept writing _love_ on her skin while my fingers traced _love_ inside her until she couldn't anymore, reaching that high note with her low voice I was so eagerly anticipating.

Hearing my name spill from her lips had my heart and mind in a frenzy.

This remarkable girl had me back in Spencer-heaven again. And I wanted to stay there, _with_ her. It didn't take much to come undone; her slip over the edge had me going right with her. With my fingers still lodged deep inside her, I shot back up against her body in a swift move, my lips finding hers as we rode out the waves of pleasure together.

It was quiet for a long time after our intense lovemaking.

We stared at each other with lazy smiles until our eyes started drooping. Spencer's closed first, leaving me with an immense surge of affection towards her. I continued staring, watching her peaceful features as sleep pulled her further in, my heart beating hard at the realization that she was still smiling.

Was this what love felt like? Because I knew what love _looked_ like – it was smiling right at me and had my insides completely turned to a soft, wet, pulpy mass.

It was hard to fall asleep despite the exhaustion and desperate rest my body begged for. It was hard to close my eyes while Spencer was right here with me, even calming me in her sleep.

I stared for a while longer before I finally gave in to fatigue, vaguely remembering covering our naked bodies with a duvet before meeting Spencer in our dreams.

* * *

It was exceedingly difficult to let her go. I was ready to cry like a baby, throw a tantrum, fake some illness, _anything,_ to keep Spencer from having to leave my condo for the afternoon. But we needed food, and her mind was made up about me needing rest without her being a distraction. She was also adamant to pick up a refill of my prescribed medication and getting the right kind of ingredients for a healthy dinner and breakfast. I loved that she was thinking of breakfast too – did that mean she would stay the night again?

"I'll be back in about three hours. But you need to sleep, Ash, I know you didn't." Her voice was firm but her eyes was soft as she smiled at me in sympathy. "Do this, for me, please?"

I sighed, my shoulders sagging and my body relieved at the support the door frame offered. I was overly exhausted. I slept for an hour while Spencer slept until late afternoon. She felt refreshed while I felt sluggish, my mind only able to focus on her and the way her closeness had my body all worked up again. I stared at her like a stalker for an entire day while she slept. I was close to know exactly how many strands of hair was on her head. I could shamelessly pinpoint exactly where that scar on her left eyebrow was even with my eyes closed.

"Okay," I finally relented, my heart feeling heavy with the knowledge that she wouldn't be next to me when I fell asleep. I only had myself to blame for that.

Spencer's smile widened and her hand reached up, tucking loose strands of disarrayed hair behind my ears. "I'll be here when you wake up. With dinner ready and meds and maybe we can watch a movie if you're not too tired?"

My ears perked at that. A movie? Time with Spencer felt more and more like we were just supposed to be together. Like there was no question about it – it was just how the universe planned for it to be. I couldn't possibly think of anything better to do; _everything_ with Spencer was magical. Even if we did nothing at all, it would be enough for me. "I'd like that, thank you."

"Promise you're going straight to bed?" she asked for good measure, stepping closer to me.

When I nodded in agreement, she rewarded me with a languid kiss. My legs threatened to give in but I took whatever I could get.

Spencer seemed to realize my predicament and finally pulled away with a chuckle. "You're such a sap. Go to bed Ash. I'll see you soon, okay?"

And then she was at the gate, blowing me a kiss before disappearing from sight.

Another heavy sigh escaped me. I knew sleep would do me the world's good, _and_ it would make time fly. But with the night we just had, how was I supposed to just close my eyes and shut off my brain, stopping it from replaying every intimate second Spencer shared with me? How was I supposed to ever sleep again at all, when all I wanted to do was keep the memory on loop?

The answer stared me right in the eyes as I closed the door behind me, freezing in my tracks as Kelly leaned against the kitchen island counter, her eyes narrowed, an evil grin on her face.

It made me want to forget about Spencer's existence altogether if that was what would keep her safe from the reincarnation of the devil right in front of me.

"It looks like we _just_ missed each other. Such a pity. I'd love to meet this poor girl who did _this_ to you. You _reek_ of sex. Tell me, Ashley, does your fingers do as stellar a job inside your little whore like it does pulling triggers?"

I saw red. I lost all resolve to let Kelly's comments slide, and in an uncalculated haste move, I lunged forward, my hands reaching out to grab her throat. But like I should have known, my hands moved right through her, and I lost my footing since Kelly wasn't there for me to fall onto.

The crash into the kitchen island was painful. My knuckles were busted and the wind got knocked out of me but it hardly deterred me from backing down. Kelly had just overstepped the line way too far. I panted hard as I pushed myself up to face her again. It was infuriating to see Kelly with that arrogant smirk across her face and there was nothing I could do about it.

"I know she's coming back tonight. It's time for you to pay for your sins, Ashley," Kelly continued. "I've been nice up to now, but it seems you haven't been taking my threats serious at all. And here I thought my intentions were _transparent_. Guess I should have made myself more _clear_."

Kelly chuckled at her own jokes and it made me want to throw up. It was far from funny, and she definitely didn't have the right audience for what she thought was entertaining. The threats on Spencer's life was anything _but_ entertaining. I wished now more than ever that Spencer wouldn't return from her errands. I silently prayed that something would happen, _anything_ , to keep her from coming back. Tears started trickling down my cheeks as I realized the irony of the situation. Just a couple minutes ago I couldn't fathom being without Spencer for a mere second.

"It's too late to cry now, you poor thing. I know it's terrifying, but soon it will all be over. I won't make her suffer, I promise. I'll make it quick. But you… Ashley, oh _you_ …" I was horrified at the faraway look in Kelly's demonic eyes. She smiled to herself before refocusing on me. " _You_ get to suffer. I will _make_ you suffer. You have pissed off the wrong bitch for too long."

The searing pain shooting through my forehead reminded me of all the times I woke up to find another ghost in my life. I felt so confused, was this what was happening again? Or was this Kelly's doing? I doubled over in pain, my body screaming out to every nerve ending that it needed rest. But fear kept me up, kept me from losing consciousness. I was terrified of blacking out and losing control over the situation. Not that I had control _now_ , but while being awake, there was still the slightest chance that I could save Spencer.

Tears blinded my vision and an iron fist clenched tightly around my heart as I remembered just this morning how good it felt to stare at the love of my life while she fell asleep. How my heart fluttered and my entire being felt giddy and jittery and joyful. I wished I could turn back time, go back to that moment her eyes closed so I could close my eyes with her. I wished I could turn back time, go back to the moment Spencer promised she'd return within three hours. Had I known what I knew now, I'd tell her to go home, tell her to stay away longer… anything but to be back so soon.

And yet, three torturous hours of what was currently happening wouldn't guarantee me the ability to stay awake. I was already on the verge, darkness swimming at the edges of my eyes. I heard Kelly laugh and continue slandering Spencer without even knowing her, and I so wished I had enough strength to get up and lunge at her again.

I remembered calling out, begging for her to stop. I remembered wiping at my nose, my hands crimson red as I stared at it through blurred vision. I choked on the droplets dripping right into my throat, blood spilling everywhere.

"Kelly, please, stop. I'll do whatever you want," I begged, on my knees, my body shrinking into itself as I tried to fight off the pain.

But Kelly was relentless. "It's too late, Ashley. But don't worry, it's not long anymore. She should be here any time now."

I had no idea how much time had passed. There were times where I was certain I drifted off, only to be brought back to consciousness by the sheer fear of what would happen to Spencer. I forced myself to block out the pain by thinking of anything else.

I had to find a way to keep Spencer from coming back. Or to get her to leave. And I had to find a way to get rid of Kelly. And all these fucked up ghosts.

I was in such a state that I never even realized none of the other ghosts were here to witness what Kelly was doing. I wondered if they knew, and if they even cared.

Bloody sobs wracked through me as I realized they probably didn't. Why should they – I killed them. I deserved this. I deserved the pain and suffering and whatever Kelly was putting me through.

But Spencer didn't, and it was the sole reason that kept me semi-conscious until I heard the dreaded knock on the front door. She had keys but was still polite enough to knock first.

The smile on Kelly's face was sickening. "Get up," she demanded.

I wished I could. But the pain and fear had me frozen, curled into a tight ball on the floor.

"I _said_ ," Kelly bellowed, the pain intensifying with her rising anger. "Get _up_!"

"Kelly, _please_ ," I begged in a tiny voice. "Please don't hurt her."

If Kelly wasn't going to kill me, the anxiety regarding Spencer's safety was. Another searing pain shot through me and I couldn't help but cry out loud. Of course, Spencer heard, and after calling after me, I could hear her fumbling around on the other side of the door, desperately trying to find her keys so she could get to me.

"Ashley, hold on, I'll be right there!"

It was all the motivation I needed to force myself up, despite the heartache of what I was about to do, despite the immense pain and protests from my tired body. I had no idea where that last surge of strength came from, but I was up and at the door within seconds, pushing hard against it as Spencer finally managed to unlock and open it.

"Ashley? What's going on?"

The fear and concern in her voice had me flinch.

"Spencer, you need to go," I breathed out softly, hoping Kelly wouldn't realize I was trying to get rid of her. "You need to go and never come back." I pressed harder against the door, just a slither of light falling into the condo from the outside.

" _What_?"

I was thankful to be on the other side of the door, unable to see Spencer's face as I was starting to rip her heart to shreds with my bare hands.

"I don't want to see you again. What happened last night… it was a mistake." My voice broke, my _heart_ broke as the words escaped me. Every last muscle pulled tight to prevent myself from opening that door and take my words back.

"Ashley…" I could hear the tears in her voice and imagined them running down those beautiful cheeks. "I don't understand." Her voice cracked, and in that moment I hated Spencer terribly. "I…I love you. I'm _in_ love with you. Please don't do this," she begged softly.

But I hated myself more.

"I don't love _you_ , Spencer. What we had… it was nice. But it's not for me. I won't be here in the morning – you won't ever see me again. You need to go, and move on." The words ripped through me the same way I could hear it rip through Spencer. She let out a strangled cry, and her weight shifted against the door as she slid down to the ground. I could feel her _shaking_ against the door as she cried.

The devastation and self-loathing for causing Spencer that kind of pain was just too much. I had to take a step back as the force of vomiting caused my body to spasm. But I didn't even feel it. I hardly felt the pain of Kelly's wrath anymore. There was nothing left to feel, not after what I've just done.

"You need to go, Spencer," I managed, just barely. In a fleeting moment I had the insight to reach around and pull Spencer's copy of my keys out of the door lock. I didn't dare look at her as I closed the door with a soft click, making sure to lock and bolt it before darkness took over.

* * *

 **Stay – Shakespears Sister**


	50. How to save a life

**A/N : All those incredible reviews! Wow! Thank you all so much for reacting so passionately! This has been fantastic! Can I just say that it was really entertaining to read how everyone feels about Kelly – I'm still stunned and so grateful for all of you supporting me throughout this fic.**

 **Shoutout to GirlsOnly for hashtagkellymustdieagain**

 **Important note; while it's been awesome to give you regular updates again, there's some pressing matters I have to go take care of so I could possibly not post for two weeks or so. But fear not, we will get to that ending!**

 **For those who celebrate, Happy Easter (in advance) to everyone!**

* * *

 **Anjela78 – CH49 : Thank you so much for the compliments, I promise Spashley will get back together. Maybe I'll try another intimate scene when they eventually do… watch this space ;) I feel you on the Kelly situation – for a one-episode character she's really become a huge role in this one, which actually surprised me even though it was planned like that! Anyway, hope you have a beautiful weekend too, and happy Easter if I don't get to update before then. Thank you for reading and reviewing!**

 **GirlsOnly – CH49 : Thank you so much for the lengthy review and the generous compliments! I laughed so hard at that hashtag and actually just fell in love with it. It was so, so clever! Thank you! I really want to say I'm sorry but I really can't do that for writing the chapter the way I did. Unfortunately Kelly's job is to antagonize and by everyone's reactions I gather she's doing it quite well! You were talking about a follow-up chapter; this one covers some ground on it but yes, Ashley will feel the sting of what she's done. And probably everybody else too. Spencer – I don't want to let the cat out of the hat here but I'll just tip you off that she will** ** _never_** **give up on Ashley. And that's all I'm saying. Thank you for reading and reviewing!**

 **ToriDub – CH49 : I didn't mean to make everyone nervous right from the beginning, perhaps I shouldn't have started with that warning – I guess it was because I myself was so nervous about the chapter. But, the reviews have been incredible, the reactions really warmed my heart even though it's mostly that everyone wants to kill Kelly themselves. Spencer and Ashley will reconcile, but obviously there's some things they need to work out first. And work out of the way. Like Kelly. But they'll get there, I promise. I really laughed when you said you're just getting seeds for new theories; my time away will give you plenty of time to wonder what happens after this chapter ;) Thank you for the compliments and thank you for reading and reviewing!**

 **SoNFan – CH49 : I will mend those broken hearts again, I promise! And Kelly will get what's coming to her. She just doesn't know it yet. Thank you for reading and reviewing! I'll be back as soon as possible with more :)**

 **K1989 – CH49 : Your reaction had me laughing – unintentionally, but it was funny the way everyone really despises Kelly now. She'll pay the price, don't worry! :) And Ashley and Spencer will get their happy ending, that is a promise! Thank you so much for reading and reviewing!**

* * *

 **Madison**

 **How to save a life**

The aftermath of Kelly's destruction was the worst thing I've ever had to witness. And I've witnessed a lot of things – even my own death. But not even _that_ was as painful as what I'd seen tonight.

I never intended to go to the condo, knowing Ashley needed some time to recover and just lose herself a little with the girl who'd been keeping her grounded. It reminded me of our own hookups back in the day, of how I would wear her out until she couldn't think anymore. It was all so clear why she did all of that now. Sex was her escape.

But this time things were different. The girl, and what a pretty girl she was, had reached Ashley in ways that no one else was ever able to. With her in the picture, it was hard to think of Ashley as a cold-blooded killer. It was hard to think of her as that to _start_ with. She didn't fit the part. She had too much of a conscience and her heart was in the right place despite her misguided actions. I liked to think of her as just a little bit of a lost girl.

Except now, she was _so_ lost that I feared we'd never get her back again.

My shoulders sagged and I felt a numbing ache in my chest as I took in her appearance. She looked like a victim off a horror film. Her face was smeared with dried blood and tear stains and evidence of her severe nosebleed surrounded her on the floor. Even her hands were covered in blood. The way her body was curled into itself I knew Kelly had really hurt her physically.

It scared me to know that Kelly was able to do these things. She was a dangerous threat, not only to Ashley, but to all of us.

I took a careful step closer, bending down next to her. I was afraid to check if she was even still alive. It really looked bad. Reaching out, the ache I felt earlier increased tenfold as my hand couldn't physically touch Ashley. Oh how I yearned to just hold her, even if I wasn't who she was looking for. No-one should go through this alone.

She was unconscious but breathing. It was a start. I knew she probably wished she _wasn't_ breathing anymore, the same way the girl still curled up outside wished she wasn't breathing either.

This was so incredibly fucked up.

I closed my eyes, wishing away the tears I knew I wouldn't ever physically feel again. But they were there, pooling up in my eyes, pushing up the lump in my throat, squeezing at my heart that wasn't really beating.

It sucked to still have emotional feelings as a ghost. And it sucked to feel sorry for Ashley after she took my life from me. But I didn't even look at it that way. I forgave her the day she apologized while pulling the trigger. Call me crazy, but it was enough for me to get over it and move on. To accept things.

But _this_ , this was fucking unacceptable.

I wish I knew how to channel the other ghosts to come back home, but it was lost on me how to get them here. The only ghost who seemed to have researched her abilities was Kelly. And it was the one person I did _not_ want back at this heinous crime scene.

Not while Ashley was well on her way to become a ghost herself, and definitely not while her broken girlfriend was still outside.

I just wished I could _touch_ her. Get her to wake up. Comfort her. Help her clean up her wounds and get her to bed.

I could try to talk to the girlfriend, but I wasn't sure if she could see me. It was surprising that I could see _her_ to start with – we generally disappeared whenever other humans came close to Ashley. How I wished I didn't see her. Couldn't see her. Couldn't go close to witness every single destructive second Kelly caused.

I remembered seeing her face, the pain in those beautiful blue eyes. I remembered the pain _I_ felt as I listened how she made herself vulnerable, telling Ashley that she loved her. And I knew Ashley didn't hear it. I doubted it registered, and I doubted she would have denied her own love for the girl had she taken time to let it sink in. There had to be another way to protect her, to get her away from the house without ripping out both their hearts.

Ashley was a lot of things to a lot of people; she'd been called heartless, cold-hearted, cold, cruel, a bitch, a killer. But she was not a butcher of hearts. Not like that. I refused to believe it.

Her soft groan startled me, and immediately I planted myself in her line of vision. I wasn't sure how bad the damage was internally, but she needed to know that she had at least one person on her side. Even if I was a ghost.

"Ashley?" It came out concerned, surprising even myself.

I watched as she frowned and forced her eyes open, flinching the entire time. This looked bad.

"Madison? What happened?"

Oh no, no way chica. I was _not_ going to be the bearer of bad news.

She stretched out on the floor and slowly pulled herself up in a sitting position, a position that I could tell by her facial expression hurt awfully. "Where's…" Her voice trailed off and a mask of sadness settled on her face. "Did she get to her?"

I wanted to feign innocence and be ignorant of her situation, but the fear in her eyes had me realize once again that Ashley really did love that girl. I sighed and took my time to sit down next to her, knowing that I was going to tell her what I saw even if it was going to hurt her more. Things looked dire for everyone and the decision lay in Ashley's hands on what to do next.

"Your pretty blonde is unharmed. She's not okay, because you shattered that little heart of hers, but Kelly didn't get to her." I thought I'd see some sort of relief on her face, but Ashley looked even more worried.

"Wait, you _saw_ her?" She looked absolutely terrified.

I frowned, backtracking on the discovery I'd made earlier. Perhaps all of the ghosts were discovering all sorts of things, which was why Ashley had to act fast. No matter _how_ forgiving everyone seemed, after Kelly's performance, I was afraid that Ashley was soon going to sit with a much bigger problem on her hands. What if the other ghosts started turning against her too?

"I did. I was outside with her. She couldn't see me, though."

I could see by the way Ashley's eyes were tearing up that she was devastated. She was going to ask me what I knew was going to destroy her, but if it could help her move on, at least just to get rid of Kelly, then I had to do my part as a friend. Because that's what we were. Long before this mess ever started.

"Did she…" Ashley squeezed her eyes shut but tears came rolling down anyway. "How was she?"

"Pretty much the same as you. Less the physical damage, of course." I watched her process the information with a heavy heart, and for a long while Ashley was silent, her busted fists clasping and unclasping. It was in that moment that I realized there was a way out of this. To fix this. I wasn't sure if her girlfriend would ever forgive her for the things she's said, but if she truly did love Ashley like she said, I had a feeling that their relationship was far from over.

"Ashley," I started cautiously, knowing my next sentence would have Ashley jump up and rush to the front door. I had to word this carefully. "I know you can't see it right now, but there is a light at the end of the tunnel. And I will help you get there, but there's something you'll have to do for me in return."

She looked at me as if I'd found the solution to solving the world's hunger and poverty problems. I couldn't help but chuckle softly at her reaction. "You're not going to like all of it, so I want you to listen before you say anything. And don't just let it go over your head, Ashley, you need to really listen and think about this."

She frowned but nodded in agreement anyway. "It's not like I've got anything more to lose."

I feared that maybe Ashley was already despondent beyond fixing. Telling her what I knew wasn't going to make it any better, but if she would hear me out before jumping to conclusions I knew Ashley would see my logic. She was smart. She just never gave herself enough credit.

"First of all, we need to get out of this place. I know a motel where you can book yourself in for a couple of days without appearing suspicious."

Her mouth opened and I shot her my _don't-interrupt-me_ -look. I knew what she was going to say. She wanted to stay in case her girlfriend came back.

"Your girl is still outside, sitting against your front door," I started, and like predicted, Ashley pushed herself up despite the pain she was in. I cleared my throat. "And if you love her and want to keep her alive, you will let her stay there and let her leave when she's ready."

Her mouth opened again, and this time I jumped up, my arms reaching out to shake some sense into her. But my hands went right through her and it was so _frustrating_. Ashley got what I tried to do though, and paused in her tracks.

"While Kelly is out, you need to _move_. Get your gun and whatever else you need, and let's make an escape through the backdoor. The ghosts will find you at the motel. _Kelly_ will find you at the motel. And your girlfriend will be safe, _here_ , without knowing where you or Kelly are."

Ashley listened, and processed, and I could see some understanding light up in her eyes. She understood where I was going with this. But her heart, that damn soft heart of hers, was still ruling her head. She wasn't ready to up and leave, she wasn't ready to let her go.

I sighed out loud. Did I have to draw _pictures_ for her? "Ashley. Listen to me. Get your head in the game. We need to _go_. And from there you need to get on a plane and go to LA to sort out Dan Miller and get Sean's wife back. I will help Kelly build up her case file so you can sort her out when you get back. Then you can see your girl again."

There was an almost hopeful smile as my plan finally sunk in. I was no professional sniper but I was street smart and I was fucking proud of it.

"What did you want in return?" she asked hesitantly, slowly making her way towards her room instead of the front door.

I followed and watched as she frantically started packing. The smile on my face was so wide it would have hurt had I still been alive. "I want to help you take that bitch down. And then, you're taking me to a J-Lo concert before you let me go."

Ashley stopped dead and looked at me with tears in her eyes. "Madison, I'm so sorry."

I offered a _you're-forgiven_ smile in return. "I know."

* * *

The motel was on the outskirts of San Jose towards the nature reserves on the coast, giving Ashley some distance away from everything that kept hounding her thoughts and dreams in the Bay Area. I was somewhat concerned that she was skipping out on her doctor's appointments again, but she could tell them when she returned that she had stuff to take care of. I just hoped that health wise, she would survive. At least long enough to get Kelly her one-way ticket out of our lives.

As predicted, they found us in no time. We'd just arrived by taxi and Ashley had managed to dose off for a couple of minutes before my dead heart started beating as I saw him.

Aiden was handsome as always, and I had missed him the past two days we haven't seen each other.

"Is she okay?"

I knew all about him pining after her, but it hardly mattered anymore. Ashley was in love with someone else, and Aiden, despite being concerned, was all mine. It was the one thing that made accepting all of this so much easier. At least I had him. As a ghost, with me. I could touch him and kiss him and feel him, oh God, could I _feel_ him.

The other ghosts didn't know, and if they did, well, too bad. I was happy.

"I have to talk to you, to everyone – without the devil being present. Maybe I can tell you and you can tell Sean and Lily?"

Aiden frowned as he looked between me and Ashley, still passed out on the bed. The room was spacious with one double and one single bed but offered no privacy save for the bathroom.

"What happened?"

"Kelly happened. There's some serious shit going on. She's capable of doings things, Aid. When I found Ashley I thought she was dead."

 _"What?"_ He sounded utterly shocked.

"Look, I'll tell you everything in a minute. Where is everyone? I don't want that bitch to hear. She scares me."

Aiden pulled out the chair situated by the small wall-mounted desk and sat down, his perfect forehead showing off some worrying wrinkles. "They're outside. Kelly too. We don't have much time. Tell me what happened, baby."

My inner ghost swooned at his words. I sat down at the foot point of Ashley's bed, casting a quick glance at her troubled features before I looked back at my man. With a sigh I forced my shoulders to relax and recounted everything, from discovering I could see Ashley's girlfriend and suffering that heart-wrenching breakup with her, to everything Kelly's done to Ashley. I quickly told him highlights of my plan, a smile forming on my lips when he seemed quite satisfied with the outcome.

"Well, nice place you chose. A change of scenery is just what everyone needed. I'll talk to Sean first and inform him of everything, then we'll tell Lily and Sasha the highlights. Sean is priority right now but I agree, whatever Kelly is up to cannot be good. I don't feel comfortable with her around so please be careful, okay?"

Had Ashley not been on the double bed, Aiden and I definitely would have.

"You take care too. We need to look out for Ashley, we need to keep her alive until she can get rid of the demon. She's not doing so well."

I watched Aiden chance a glance at her, and for a split second I recognized the longing in his eyes. But it was gone before I could blink and make sure, soothing my jealousy a tad bit.

"She won't listen if I talk to her. She seems to trust you, babe. Just make sure she takes her meds and keep talking to her to make sure she's with us. I'll start working with Sean in the meantime to get stuff ready for them. Did she bring her laptop?"

"We've got everything. Laptop, files, money, ID's, rifle."

"You're sexy when you're so organized."

"You're sexy. Period."

"Come here."

* * *

So we didn't get to christen the worn motel bed, but the shower stall would forever haunt new jet-setters with eternal moans of pleasure. It was a pity we couldn't feel the water, but at least it drowned out some of the noise.

Ashley stared in disdain as Aiden and I stumbled out of the small bathroom, all happy and satisfied. If anything, it probably just hurt to see us like this while her heart was still in pieces about her girlfriend. I knew any other day she would have been happy for me.

Sean laughed while Sasha rolled her eyes. Lily didn't even notice.

But Kelly did, and it was _her_ look I was slightly concerned about. "Can you two not be so disgusting?"

While it was fairly safe for me to give a snarky remark, because I could _so_ bitch-slap Kelly if I wanted to, I bit my tongue and smirked instead. It was hard and I understood how difficult it must have been for Ashley all this time. And like she tried to protect her girlfriend all the while, it was now _my_ turn to protect _her_ from Kelly's wrath.

I immediately turned my attention away from Kelly to refrain from fueling her ever-present bad mood, and moved over to Lily instead. She was helping Sean get information from his company databases. Quite a handy journalist to have around.

Sasha – unsurprisingly – now occupied the foot point of Ashley's bed, her eyes glued to the old box TV.

Kelly was on the single bed, staring at Ashley, who sat curled with her knees under her chin against the furthest wall. I felt that same tightening pressure in my chest when I found Ashley on the floor, figuring it was just a ghost-version of heartache for my friend.

She looked lost and sad and _sick_. I knew it was from the injuries Kelly had inflicted on her, so I gently scooted onto the bed, wishing I could block Kelly's view of her with my back. "Have you eaten anything yet?"

She shook her head solemnly and for the umpteenth time, I wished that I could hug her. "Hey," I whispered, hoping Kelly couldn't hear us. I smiled encouragingly as Ashley's sad brown eyes met mine. "Remember the light at the end of the tunnel. You'll get your girl back, I promise you."

"How? I just left her there. She thinks I don't-" Her voice cracked and the tears started rolling again.

"Use that to get you through this. Use that to get back home without _you-know-who_ , so you can tell her how you feel."

Ashley wasn't fully convinced yet, but at least I had her attention now.

I wanted wings for this. Screw going to eternal heaven or whatever after Ashley set me free. I could be a guardian angel. Ghosts were overrated anyway.

"I think the reason I was able to see her is because somehow, Ashley, your love for each other have changed things back at the condo. It was almost like it was breathing life back into us. You're not going to lose her. Love doesn't disappear overnight – if ever. Despite what people might think of your past, you're a damn hero, Ashley, for doing what you did. That devil nearly killed you and you kept fighting to protect your girl. If _that_ isn't love, then I don't know."

"I really _do_ love her," Ashley whispered in a small voice. I watched as she rested her chin on her knees and closed her eyes, probably – _hopefully_ – reminiscing better times.

"I know you do. And even if it's the last thing I ever do, I'll make sure she gets the message."

* * *

 **How to save a life – The Fray**


	51. When they come for me

**A/N: Hope the wait wasn't too long :) I'll try to get the next one out as soon as I can – it kinda needs to after this.**

 **Thanks for the PMs ToriDub and ShardsOfRayne :)**

 **SON4LIFE – CH50 : Thank you, I don't think I'll stop writing any time soon ;) Thank you for reading and reviewing! Hope you enjoy the next chapter!**

 **GirlsOnly – CH50 : I also wish I could update every day but that would leave me doing nothing else. Which I wouldn't terribly mind but somewhere somehow I need work to have money to have internet to post updates ;) Thank you, I try to keep the songs and chapters relevant, and yes, a huge amount of research has gone into this fic, and still does. Though it's entirely fictional and obviously because there are ghosts in the story, I try to keep everything else real and believable. Ashley and Spencer will find their way back to each other, don't worry. Just not in this chapter ;p Thank you for reading and reviewing!**

 **Anjela78 – CH50 : I fully agree with that, Ashley has turned soft because she's fallen in love. She's shown us how all it takes is one person to show you unconditional love (okay, well Spencer has NO CLUE who she really is, so unconditional is probably unfair) for you to realize how you can be a better person. You don't have to change yourself for other people, but you can try to be the best version of yourself. Haha, I get that people don't like Aiden and don't trust him… we'll hear a bit more about him in upcoming chapters. Thank you for reading and reviewing – hope you have a wonderful and not too busy day!**

 **TheDWall – CH50 : It was humbling to read that you are so emotionally invested in this fic. It really means a lot – thank you so much! There's a lot happening in this chapter and at quite a pace, I'll try to get the next one out as soon as possible too. Thank you for reading and reviewing!**

 **Southtrash – CH50 : When readers tell me they actually reread the entire fic I get this warm feeling of appreciation, and I mean that. Thank you for the compliment, I might write another intimate moment but obviously Spashley need to kiss and make up first. Or would that now be the** ** _'make up'_** **part ;) Glad you like my version of Madison, I decided to make her less bitchy (since Kelly stole** ** _that_** **spotlight) and bring some humor in. Ashley will end up happy, Spencer too. We're just not there quite yet. But please keep on reading so they can get there! Thank you for reading and reviewing!**

 **ToriDub – CH50 : I'm glad you liked that chapter. And I love that you ask questions and try to figure things out! Madison is like a bit of a diffuser in this fic rather than the high-strung character in the show. I wanted at least one ghost to be supportive of Ashley – she definitely needs all the help she can get. Aiden… well, he might appear a bit more in the following chapters – no pun intended! We're all hoping for Kelly to suffer a slow, torturous departure – all we can do is wait and see how things turn out! I do promise that Ashley and Spencer will get back together in the end though. We're not too far away anymore. I'm already starting to think of the next fic to write! Hope you enjoy this chapter – it might feel long but it's a vital introduction to the next chapter which I hope to get out very soon. Thank you for the well-wishes and for reading and reviewing!**

 **K1989 – CH50 : Glad you liked Madison, and I think perhaps you are right not to trust Aiden… that's all I'm saying ;) I know everybody's emotions are running high after chapter 49, but things will get better, I promise! Thank you for reading and reviewing!**

* * *

 **Ashley**

 **When they come for me**

 _"_ _We can assure you that there is no involvement from Polit-Enterprises in the Miller-case. We'd like to extend our sympathy and offer manpower and resources to the family and LAPD regarding Danielle Miller's disappearance."_

"He's lying. He's involved, I can see it in his eyes."

All attention turned to Sasha, who still sat with her eyes glued to the box TV, just like the rest of us a few seconds ago.

It's been a grueling couple of days; having to get used to the bursts of tightness and pain my chest, regular meltdowns and endless tears, waking up with what felt like sand in my eyes after I cried myself to sleep every night, and worst of all, the nightmares of hurting Spencer over and over again.

On top of that, I'd been trying to give as much attention to Sean's case as I possibly could. Time was running out and every second counted. Fear and heaviness loomed over all of us as we started preparing ourselves for the inevitable. It's already been seventy-two hours. The time it took to discover and report Danielle's disappearance was unaccounted for.

"John Paxton… why didn't I think of that? Bastard!" Sean exclaimed. As seething as he was, he also seemed more convinced about the guy on TV rather than trying to pin this on Dan Miller.

"He's Dan's second-in-charge. And attorney. And confidant and also the guy who makes difficult situations disappear. Including people."

The blood in my veins froze at Sasha's revelation. The name sounded vaguely familiar. I turned to Aiden, who had a pensive look on his Ken-doll face.

He finally spoke up, his voice laced with uncertainty. "I may have heard his name several times at the Agency, but I can't remember who Kessler reported back to. It doesn't ring a bell."

Sean shook his head furiously. "I'm _telling_ you, it's him. We go a long way back - we've had disagreements since we finished college up to the day I got shot."

Sean chanced a glance at me as the words left his mouth, and of course it made me feel like shit.

The emotional rollercoaster was agonizing. I felt like a sponge; soaking up every insinuation, every insult, every bad word thrown my way. It was getting heavier by the day and I was terrified what would happen if I couldn't go on anymore. Part of me just wanted to let go, but whenever I looked at Madison, she reminded me of the light at the end of the tunnel.

That light was slowly dimming; my physical condition wasn't any better off than my emotional wellbeing. It was becoming increasingly difficult to deal with the lasting effects of what Kelly had done to me. Neither the headaches nor the nosebleeds had stopped. It attacked whenever I was least ready for it.

"I have to agree with Sean. Look, it's worth looking into. I mean, Ashley can take out _both_ of them, right?"

I watched in a stupor as all the ghosts faced me after Lily's input. Were they really expecting me to kill two men who may or possibly may _not_ have ordered hits on them? What if I killed them and we still couldn't find Sean's wife?

I had to voice my own opinions about this. There was _no_ way I was going to put up with the ghosts of _politicians_ if things went south. "Whoa, hold on a second. I'm not killing _anyone_ until we find Sean's wife. Until I _physically_ see her abductors, I won't be pulling any triggers."

The angry looks I received was terrifying. I didn't know if all the ghosts had powers like Kelly did, but one thing was for certain; I wasn't going to make it out alive if I refused to do what the ghosts wanted. And if I died, who was going to protect Spencer? Would Kelly still try to go after her?

A familiar bout of what I could now recognize as a mild panic attack washed over me. My chest constricted, feeling more like an iron fist squeezing the last droplets of blood from my bleeding heart. I could hear my own breathing become shallow and ragged, my eyes tearing up at what was happening to my body. With shaky hands I grabbed towards the brown paper bag Madison suggested I use, and pressed the opening hard against my mouth.

The ghosts just turned back to the TV, used to my attacks by now. They were not concerned neither did any of them offer any comforting words. Like that sponge, I also soaked up their cold shoulders and the loneliness it caused me.

It just made me miss Spencer even more. She never made me feel alone or scared.

The thought of Spencer, her mesmerizing blue eyes and the adorable pout, her low voice and wavy blonde hair just set off another panic attack. It was all a vicious circle. Whenever it happened I tried to think of something better, like _Spencer_ -heaven, but the reminder of her, of what I'd done to her, came back and bit me in the ass.

This time Madison reacted. She shifted up on the double bed until she mimicked my position; knees up and back against the wall.

"Deep, slow breaths, okay?"

I tried to but it was so hard with that iron fist still squeezing so tightly.

"I know you don't want to hear this, but for your own sake, I think it's best if you start listening to them," Madison whispered.

I wanted to protest but knew her stern looks by now.

"Do I need to remind you of the devil over there? If you piss her off, Ashley, she _will_ kill you. You're barely even in shape to find Sean's wife. The ghosts know that and they're getting _very_ nervous about your health."

Her words made me bitter. "If they were so nervous why allow Kelly to do this to me? Why are they all looking at me like they're going to do the exact same thing she did?" It didn't last; the bitterness turned into pain and more tears.

Madison scoffed, piercing through my heart even more. "Can you blame them?"

The paper bag was back against my mouth as I realized the undertone in Madison's words. The ghosts were fed up with me, and they were _angry_ , and they wanted revenge. They wanted me dead. They were going to kill me the moment I turned my back, and although I deserved it, I couldn't help but feel utterly broken at the thought of their hatred against me and the possibility of never seeing Spencer again. All I wanted to do was tell her I love her. They could take me after that. I just wanted to give her _some_ closure - unwilling to let her suffer the same pain and uncertainty she had to go through when she lost her girlfriend. Ex-girlfriend. I was soon to be next in line.

Madison's features softened slightly as she regarded my frazzled state. "They're not going to kill you, Ashley. If anything, I know for certain that Sean, Lily and Sasha wants to go. Obviously the devil-bitch over there too. If you're dead they can't do that."

I wanted to believe her so badly but I was terrified. And exhausted.

"I think you need to rest a bit more. Let us dig a little and when you wake up and feel better, we'll maybe have some solid facts and a case to work on. Treat these cases as hits, Ashley. Don't make it personal because we're here. We'll do the digging as long as you execute the hits and release us."

I wasn't sure whether I _wanted_ to wake up again, but all it took was forcing myself into thinking I was going to make it out of all of this alive, so I could tell Spencer I love her.

* * *

Madison was right – of _course_ she was – when I opened my eyes, it wasn't as dry and gritty this time. The stuffy feeling in my nose was gone and the migraine had reduced to a dull ache. I felt substantially better than the last time I was conscious.

It took me by surprise that the dark motel room was deserted; the curtains were drawn, the TV was off, the lid of my laptop had been closed, the only source of light coming through the closed bathroom door, flickering as if it was holding onto its last thread.

I sat up with caution, thankful to feel some relief in my previously aching body as well.

I was apprehensive to have been left all by myself, but simultaneously a break from the ghosts – _especially_ Kelly – was refreshing. I could breathe for a moment and rub out the tense muscles in my shoulders.

"Ah, you're awake. I was worried out of my mind."

So much for some alone-time. My eyes followed as Madison appeared right through the bathroom door and came to sit beside me on the double bed.

"How are you feeling?"

I sighed, torn between feeling better and almost being on my way out for good. "I guess as good as _can_ be under the circumstances."

Madison nodded in understanding, but when her eyes met mine, I could see the underlying concern.

"What is it?"

"Nothing. It's just, I was worried. You slept nearly thirty hours and I thought – "

"You thought I wasn't going to wake up," I finished the sentence gravely. It took a moment to sink in that I was out for more than a day. Appreciation washed over me that I actually _did_ make it, and that I was left alone to recover somewhat.

"Where is everyone? What do you guys do when you're not here?"

Madison smiled mischievously. "Oh, we go to cemeteries. Or haunted houses. Sometimes even carnivals – you know, those with the _fake_ haunted houses?" She checked her nails as if this was a regular thing and she was almost ready to go on her next outing.

My eyes went wide the same time my heart momentarily stopped. "You _haunt_ people?" I asked incredulously, unsure whether I should be shocked and reprimand them, or grateful that they found something else to do other than haunting _me_.

I couldn't understand why Madison burst out laughing right in my face. "Oh my gosh, you should have seen yourself just now." She hiccuped and finally recovered, able to get more words out. "Even if we could, Ashley, I think the only person who'd ever do that is Kelly. People can't see us, remember?"

I didn't find her joke funny at all.

"Come _on_ , lighten up. Anger doesn't look good on you," Madison pressed.

I stared at her for a moment before it hit me that she had actually been a great friend up to now. I didn't deserve it at all, but Madison's had my back since the very beginning. Even now, I was sure she was the one who'd convinced the other ghosts to give me some space. I relaxed my shoulders and offered a small smile. "You're a terrible ghost, you know that, right?"

She didn't take it to heart. In fact, her own face beamed when she noticed I was trying to smile. "I _know_ , right? I'd make a much better guardian angel, don't you think?"

I gave a full-hearted laugh for the first time since I left my condo. "That would be hilarious. I can see you driving your human counterpart crazy. They'd go so far as to file a restraining order against you."

Of course I didn't mean it, but we laughed and giggled over the silliness anyway. Truth to be told, perhaps Madison _was_ a guardian angel. _My_ guardian angel.

I would forever be grateful towards her.

When the joking settled, I looked up at her with a sigh. "So, have you guys found anything yet? What do you need me to do?"

* * *

When Madison reassured me they had everything ready for me to assess and validate, I was expecting a folder on my laptop with a couple of pictures and maybe an address, perhaps some phone numbers and a detailed map with the location.

What I found when they presented the assignment on John Paxton, however, was similar to the files Aiden used to hand over to me. With Lily's ability to use my laptop, pen and paper, they'd crafted a perfectly detailed case file.

The folder they created on my laptop contained all the photographs, detailed locations, and login details of John's computer at his office, as well as login details of Sean's computer back at his law firm.

The papers contained personal information and about five other pages of detail neatly written out in the same format I used to receive it from Aiden.

I was thoroughly impressed.

And stunned that I already had a seat reservation booked under Madison's name – using the same ID when I traveled to New York to see Tracy Anderson.

"That will be ninety-two dollars, Miss Duarte."

I was startled when the assistant referred to me as Madison, but covered it up quickly. "Only? That's cheaper than usual, isn't it?"

I knew from all the extensive traveling with my time at the Agency more or less what flight costs were. Thinking on my feet came natural to me, and I felt relief wash over me to feel a little bit more like myself instead of death.

The assistant smiled widely. "Yes it is. We have a special running until noon for all cash sales. Guess it's your lucky day!"

It was my lucky day indeed, but for many reasons unknown to the assistant who'd just sold a plane ticket to a professional marksman who was on the run and probably on the FBI's most wanted list.

"I guess it is. Have a lovely day, Miss…" I checked her name tag for good measure and gave her my most flirtatious smile. "Lauren. Have a great day, Lauren."

She blushed and giggled and I had to restrain myself from rolling my eyes. Slinging my faithful camera and hidden rifle bag over my shoulder, I grabbed towards the small suitcase – containing my clothes and laptop – and rolled it along as I moved towards the check-in counters. This was the most nerve-wrecking part. I had to walk through that scanner, my bags had to go through that scanner, and at any given time, security could decide to choose me for a random ID and background check, among other things.

My nerves were getting the best of me, attracting the attention of the female security guard patting down random passengers. She nodded towards me and I tried to act as casual as possible when she motioned for me to stand still in front of her and lift my arms. Outside I appeared calm but inside all I wanted to do was bolt.

"Everything okay, ma'am?"

I swallowed hard, only able to nod with the lump still stuck in my throat.

The security guard seemed wary and frowned for a second. A slight sheen of sweat broke out on my forehead as I watched her eyes narrow while observing me.

"ID please?"

This was it. She was going to check the ID, run Madison's social security number, and find out we didn't look anything alike. The only resemblance we'd ever have is that I probably looked as pale as a ghost too right now.

With bated breath I waited for the moment I was finally going down. I found it ironic that I walked right into this. I should have known not to travel by plane, no matter what the ghosts said. Or perhaps this was what they wanted all along – for me to go to jail so they could haunt me in a six by eight cell with padded floors and walls for the rest of my life.

"… have a pleasant flight."

I was taken aback once again when the security guard smiled, presenting my fake ID back to me. How was this even possible? Why did she _not_ look on that computer of hers?

I wasn't going to stand there and wonder, though. My suitcase was marked with the relevant flight and ticket details and I watched it disappear on the conveyor belt to be stowed away at the back of the plane. My camera bag passed the security scanners without difficulty and the security lady on the other side actually winked when she handed me my belongings. Was she _flirting_? I wasn't going to stick around for that either.

With my camera bag securely slung over my shoulder, I made my way over to the departure gates, grateful that there wasn't enough time to wander around and get caught. Passengers were already lining up to hand in their tickets and board the plane. I queued with them, closing my eyes for a second to wash away the fear and play the travel photographer I was so used to.

I could do this. I could find Sean's wife, perhaps even take out John Paxton and make Sean and Lily disappear, and go back to San Jose to get rid of Kelly. Madison had promised that they'd have Kelly's file ready the same way they had everything sorted for John. I couldn't wait to watch Kelly disappear. I wished it would be painful and torturous for her, but at the same time I just wanted her gone in an instant.

Then I could go back home and apologize to Spencer, and tell her I love her, and suck up as if my life depended on it.

Home.

It didn't matter where it was, as long as Spencer was there.

 _She_ was my home.

* * *

Being back in LA had me freak out and more than once I found myself almost rushing to the nearest emergency room to find some oxygen. Familiar streets, familiar buildings and familiar landmarks reminded me of a past I was not too proud of.

I wondered what had happened to my apartment; whether anybody had noticed that I was gone. Whether it had been ransacked and turned upside down by the Agency and Feds. Whether anyone would notice if I was to go back and check it out.

As curious as I was, I handed the address of a shady car dealership written on my itinerary to the cab driver and sat back, closing my eyes in peace for the last time. I tried not to think of all the details and preparations that lay ahead of me. Instead I tortured myself with the _reason_ I was pushing through with all of this… Spencer.

I wondered if she was okay, and what she was doing. It's been a couple of days already and deep down I knew she wouldn't stay moping at my front door forever. Maybe she's gone back to the beach. Building sandcastles with someone new, someone else, someone who wasn't me. Someone who wasn't set out to break that big heart of hers.

I was comforted by the fact that knowing Spencer, she probably _wouldn't_ have gone back to the beach. Or haven't met anyone else, _yet_. She told me she loved me – she'd hold on for a couple more days, right? If she felt the same way I did, I prayed she wouldn't give up on me. Even if I didn't give her anything to hold onto.

"Sixty-four bucks."

For a twenty-file mile trip? Was this guy serious? "Are you kidding me? I might as well have flown here!"

The cab driver seemed annoyed. "Sixty-four or I'll drive off with your stuff and have you reported."

Oh no, he didn't. I was about to dare him to try, but remembered I didn't want to attract any attention to myself. I've already been doing a stellar job since leaving San Jose. I might as well have been walking around with a huge arrow over my head that said _find me here_.

"No need for that," I sighed, pulling a wad of bills from my jean pocket. "I'm sorry, I was just surprised at the cost."

"Sure. Sixty-four bucks." His monotone was more welcome than annoying. It meant he wasn't really paying attention, and that's exactly what I needed. I stuck the bills through the hole in the window separating the front from the back of the cab.

"Keep the change."

I heard the trunk pop open and that was my cue to get out. I grabbed my stuff and as the cab took off, I turned to face the run down building with a small parking lot in front of me. There were several cars parked outside, marked with something that looked like window paint all over the windshields. As I stepped closer it was obvious that this was the car dealership Aiden recommended. At least it wasn't back in Downtown LA, in fact, the places I was supposed to go seemed to be scattered mostly around Long Beach.

"You need a car?"

My gaze followed over the cars all the way to the glass paneled door where a bald guy probably in his mid-sixties leaned against, eyeing me carefully. We sized each other up for a good minute before I nodded and stepped closer.

"Yeah. This all you got?" I glanced back at the array of minivans and sedans, hoping he had something slightly… _faster_.

"You a cop?" He pushed himself away from the door and met me halfway. His dark slacks had greasy hand marks over the knees, probably from the cheeseburger he'd just devoured, traces of ketchup and melted cheese stuck on his lower lip and chin.

I couldn't help but fake a laugh and waved my hand at my belongings. "Do I _look_ like one?"

He glanced behind me to assess the worn suitcase and noticed the bag slung over my shoulder. "What you got in there?"

My pulse quickened for a second, but I knew that if I was able to get through airport security, I'd easily navigate my way through this old guy's prying eyes.

"It's my gear. I'm a photo journalist," I lied. "Hence the reason I need a car? Preferably something faster than these." I pointed back towards the cars in the lot.

He wasn't convinced. _Yet_. "You got an ID? And driver's license?"

I fished both out of my bag and presented it to him without blinking. He tugged on his loosely fitted tie with one hand while the other held the cards close for him to scrutinize. He glanced between the cards and myself, and I did my best to look bored as he did his so-called _inspection_.

"Alright, let me go show you what's in the back. You _sure_ you're not a cop?"

I was about to lose my cool when I remembered protocol in cases like these. Money spoke _all_ kinds of languages. I carefully reached into a side pocket of the camera bag where I'd set aside money for the car, and pulled out two hundreds just to pacify him.

The salesman gave a wicked smile and motioned for me to follow him. I was on high alert as I followed through the cars and into the surprisingly lit up building. It was lit up for a good reason – the entire floor was covered by muscle and sports cars. Some new, some vintage, some looking like it was being restored on the spot.

"How much you got?"

These cars had no paint over the windshields or any indication what I was going to have to fork out for them. I didn't want to go too high in case he tried to sell anything to me at whatever I had available. But looking at the condition of these cars I knew they were not going to be cheap. I trudged off without answering him, taking a good look at the cars as I passed them, my heart racing at the thought of getting into one of these again. It's been a long time since I've driven a sports car, let alone driven at all. A surge of adrenaline shot through me, erasing all thoughts of not wanting to do this so called rescue mission.

"What's the mileage on this one? And why is it here?" I asked, pointing towards the black 2010 Camaro right next to me. I could feel my pulse increase at the prospect of driving the immaculate muscle car.

"Eighty-five thousand on the clock. Owner upgraded to the SS version and then changed year models. Most of the Chevs I got here is from one owner. Have the papers and all." He had a toothpick in his mouth now, nonchalantly flipping it with his tongue while he focused on a clipboard in his hands, containing stacks of what seemed like pink slips.

My heart thudded the same way the car would puff out air through the muffler while idling. I was getting excited. "Can I start her?"

For the old guy he was, he seemed to sense my enthusiasm and a smile formed on his still cheeseburger-smeared lips. "Sure, let me grab the keys."

While he disappeared into his office, I made sure to check underneath the body for any unusual devices – such as tracking or alarms. I couldn't see anything with a quick glance over and felt anticipation rising. If I could get this car for ten thousand – I was going to try – I'd gladly throw in a tip for him.

He returned – mouth and chin now wiped clean and the sleeve of his white dress shirt terribly smudged – with the keys dangling off his fingers, clipboard still in the other hand.

The engine roared to life and I was ecstatic that it had a manual gearbox. With my foot on the pedal I pressed down a couple of times to rev the engine. The sound echoed through the building and I couldn't contain the Cheshire smile on my face.

"You like?"

I turned the key in the ignition and killed the engine, extremely satisfied. With the power and speed the car offered I knew it would be the right choice. _Getaway car_ was what I had in mind, and everything had to work in unison for me to make quick exits wherever needed. The interior was immaculate and I appreciated that the car was only driven by one owner. He really looked after his cars.

"I love it. I've got nine."

And the negotiations started. The salesman shook his head sadly. "It goes for twelve. I can give it to you for eleven."

"Ten," I offered, holding my breath.

He was pensive for a moment, then glanced down at his clipboard again, scanning over the paper on top. He'd probably reshuffled everything when I showed interest in the Camaro. "It's got brand new tires. And – "

I was going to have to forfeit his tip, but he most likely had his share included in the price already. "Ten and a half, that's as high as I can go."

Finally, a smile, and the owner's paper got unclipped from his clipboard. The magical pink slip. "It's yours. For ten and a half."

* * *

I wasn't impressed being stuffed into a dodgy under-the-radar motel in the most industrial part of Long Beach – right across the railway tracks leading into the port – but I was thoroughly proud of myself for the choice of car, fitting right in as I drove through the upper class residential areas down east.

John Paxton certainly had money. As the attorney and confidante of Los Angeles' Mayor, he could afford the two-story, three-bedroom waterfront home facing the Peninsula. I was curious to know what it looked like inside, and even more intrigued by what kind of yacht or speedboat he had docking on the other side.

From the street I was cut off from a decent view of what was going on inside, resident privacy thoroughly thought out in this luxurious but slightly overpopulated suburb. The doors of the large two car garage were closed, giving no indication whether anyone was home.

I was either going to have to find a way to survey his place inconspicuously from the walkway on the docks, or scope it out from the walkway on the Peninsula. Or both. From what I knew so far, John Paxton was single, and there were currently no love interests. No-one that the ghosts could find anyway. Which left it up to me to observe as much as I could in a very short span of time. Danielle Miller's disappearance was now public for almost a week, giving her little chance of survival. No-one has made contact with authorities for ransom or any instructions.

Spying on John Paxton was not only risky, it was also wasting precious time if the ghosts were incorrect in their prediction. There was a lot of pressure on me to uncover any dirt he had and be sure he was involved, and unwillingly kill him if necessary. It did not guarantee Danielle's safe return or the release of Sean or Lily. In fact, I was almost certain John was going to join my entourage of crazy ghosts.

There weren't a lot of people on the street – I had yet to decide whether that would be of any benefit to stand out or blend in. Everybody drove expensive and sporty cars. But no-one lingered in the streets longer than necessary. Not with the stunning view they had on the other side.

With a sigh I drove off, deciding to check it out from every angle possible. If anything had to happen inside John's house, I wanted it done quietly, with no-one ever realizing he was gone until Dan Miller couldn't get hold of him. And hopefully with me long gone, back in Frisco, back in Spencer's arms.

Despite the nagging at the back of my head that I was doing all of this to get back to the girl I loved, I found it incredibly difficult to keep thinking about Spencer while doing this terrible thing. She would be so disappointed if she knew what I did for a living. What I did to survive. Because that's what it's come down to. Survival. She wouldn't understand that I was doing this for both of us. She wouldn't understand that I could see ghosts and that a certain crazy ghost wanted to harm her. She wouldn't understand until she saw with her own eyes what Kelly could do.

But here's the thing; if she ever had the opportunity to see that, she was as good as dead.

So here I was, convincing my mind into auto-pilot mode. Trying to remember what it was like being an assassin. Not knowing anyone, not feeling anything. I couldn't do this with a conscience. Even if it was to save Sean's wife and spare Spencer her life.

The Peninsula was considerably easier to get a view of what went on in the houses on the bay. I was close to the marina, right on the walkway, my feet itching to feel sand and water. But it was hardly time to have a mini holiday. I had to find a way to study John Paxton's residence for long periods of time with my rifle scope without heads turning. This was going to be tricky.

* * *

Jogging on the walkway a couple of times a day was the easy part. I blended right in. No-one noticed the new resident on the Peninsula or the Bay – living in a scrappy motel and driving all the way to the Bay with an exquisite sports car – just to fit in. I jogged about half a mile every time, my sunglasses-covered eyes trained on the only house on the waterfront with large paneled blue tinted windows. I couldn't see inside with my naked eyes, but the window tint could hardly stop the penetrating infrared view of the rifle scope.

John Paxton was home at odd times during the day. It was impossible to establish a pattern. Unlike normal working-class citizens, he sometimes appeared in a suit – and on his phone – right outside on the deck of his luxurious house, and at other times he seemed more casual – still on his phone – dressed in tailored shorts and matching shoes, and the ever easy pastel colored polo shirts.

This happened for the past three days that I've been watching him. I've purchased and set up a small camera right outside his garage, completely hidden unless you were looking for it, trying to see whether he even left during the day. Or at night. All the while I'd acquired a kayak and had the excuse of trying to learn the art of paddling for hours on end, secretly pulling out my rifle scope during random moments to try and see what was going on.

This was so much more difficult without the help of the Agency. Although I scoped out my targets for a couple of days before I pulled the trigger, I was always briefed with some sort of daily pattern and activities. Even if plans changed suddenly, the Agency was always on it.

Now I didn't have the Agency, I didn't have Aiden, and I had no idea whether John Paxton was our guy.

None of this made sense. Aside from the hours he spent on his phone, there were no alarm bells going off. He left every night for two hours max, probably to grab dinner somewhere, and then came back – always home before 11PM.

It was time for a different perspective.

I waited in my car at the Marine Park until I spotted his silver Range Rover drive past, and decided to trail him at a safe following distance.

As predicted, he stopped at a nearby diner, but did not sit down as I thought he would. He placed a to-go order instead, and I took notice as the waitress handed him four white plastic bags, each probably containing a meal.

This was interesting.

Trailing at night was difficult because he could disappear at any time, but I had the advantage of not being so obvious for following the silver Rover. Dimming the lights were never necessary as we stayed on the busy main roads, heading all the way back towards the port. It was there where I started getting nervous. Traffic thinned out and here both our cars were painstakingly out of place between dirty pickups, full size semi trucks and hordes of delivery vans. It was hard to navigate through rows and rows of containers as I tried to be more indiscernible and still keep my eyes on John Paxton's SUV.

The entire trip until he finally parked outside a converted shipping container took an hour. I made sure to park completely out of sight, grateful for noise pollution in the port. They wouldn't hear my car over the constant signaling of cranes, slamming of heavy containers, and the roar of semi's parking and pulling away.

The container was converted into an office, sporting small windows with reinforced bars all around. There was a safety gate and heavy duty door. I could understand that they wanted to keep their belongings safe in the port, but it seemed a bit like overkill while all the other office conversions looked completely normal.

Lights were on inside and as I tiptoed closer I could hear three male voices. One of them belonging to John Paxton.

"Here's your dinner. Are you going to shut up and eat quietly tonight? Or shall I put another bullet in you?"

His voice was easily recognizable from the news clip I saw the other day.

"She's been on her best behavior today. Maybe Mrs. Miller will listen now, boss."

 _"Son of a bitch."_ It all clicked. I presumed it was _Danielle_ Miller inside there. Where John Paxton and two of his cronies were keeping her. The ghosts were right all along.

John Paxton had to go down.

* * *

 **When they come for me – Linkin Park**


	52. Who's got my back

**A/N: As promised :)**

* * *

 **ToriDub – CH51 : I wanted to mislead everyone for a while to think it was Dan Miller, but yeah, what leader would ever get their own hands dirty? ;) I'm glad you liked the car part – sometimes I feel like I write irrelevant stuff but it's sometimes so necessary to color in the picture a bit. While there has to be some time progression, it doesn't have to skip** ** _all_** **the small parts. Lol, you really have been paying a lot of attention to the small details, haven't you? I'm not saying anything about the Carlins, you'll have to keep on reading to find out if Ashley ever gets to see that picture again :P Hope you enjoy this chapter, looking forward to hear your thoughts on this one! Thank you for reading and reviewing :)**

* * *

 **Ashley**

 **Who's got my back**

The benefit of the dodgy motel close to the port was that I was considerably close to Danielle Miller. I could make it back to that converted shipping container within ten minutes – without any delays from heavy vehicles trekking around the container terminals.

The downfall was that I was too close to Danielle Miller – it would take me ten minutes to get to her and get her out of there, risking _her_ life, _my_ life, and a potential unwanted bloodbath.

So rash decisions were out, and planning was in.

The most important factor was that Danielle was still alive. I wished there was some way to relay the news back to Sean, to give him some peace of mind. I couldn't help but wonder why the ghosts followed me everywhere except when I had to seek retribution on behalf of them. It would have been so much easier to have them here – even if it was driving me insane. The only ghost I didn't miss was Kelly, and it was the fact that I had time to recover that I didn't ponder about their absence for too long.

I had work to do.

While at the container terminals I couldn't really make out much other than where the container was and more or less what was around it. It was too dark out and I was completely unprepared. From the three days I'd been watching John, I gathered that he only visited at night time, but since he did leave the house at random hours during day time, I couldn't be too sure.

Flipping open the lid of my laptop, I logged in to the downloaded footage and scrolled through it, logging the times John's SUV pulled out from the garage. I'd have to keep that camera there, and keep checking continuously in case he left the house. It was going to be a daunting task, and I'd have to be prepared to abandon everything and get away quick enough before he made it to the port.

I had at least twenty minutes from the moment of discovery if he _did_ leave, to get the hell out of there. Whatever the outcome of my plans and surveillance tactic were, I also had to be prepared to not leave anything behind.

I rummaged through my bag to assess my financial situation. I didn't take all the cash I had with me. More than half was still left at the condo, it was enough to sustain me for another year without having to work. What I had on me was enough to make a few essential purchases and have some backup in case of emergency getaways. Plus the resale value of the Camaro, which I wasn't willing to part with very soon.

I was going to need at least one more camera, some sort of audio surveillance device, and perhaps a fiber optic scope to see what was going on in that container, establish what type of weapons John's men had on them, and most important, Danielle's exact location and the state she was in. I had to be prepared for anything that could possibly go wrong. They've already confirmed that she'd been shot; my guess was that it was just a graze wound or some area of the body that she wouldn't be bleeding out. Or they used pellet guns. I would have preferred the latter, but had to expect the worst. I had to have my car close by to get us out and away quickly, whilst having it far enough not to be noticed or heard.

I had to consider getting a blanket or two and some first aid items such as bandages to treat whatever wounds they'd inflicted on Danielle.

I had to work on my own escape plan; how would I explain who I was and what did I do with her once I rescued her? I couldn't go to the cops and that's probably where she'd want to go. They'd ask as many questions at any emergency room, where I'd probably want to take her.

All of this, and much more, in a rescue operation that had to happen within the next twenty-four hours. I couldn't allow more time to pass since I had no idea what the exact plans were for Danielle Miller. And without time for more surveillance and digging, I had to assume John Paxton ordered the hits on Sean, Lily and Sasha. I had to assume this was all his doing.

And then I had to pray to make it out alive, and not have the ghost of John Paxton waiting for me back in San Jose.

Sleep wasn't going to come easy despite every fiber in my being begging for rest, begging to prepare for what lay ahead.

My thoughts were all over the place; about the reasons behind Danielle's kidnapping, the part John Paxton had in all of this, and how I would probably have to kill his men and risk them coming to haunt me without means to get rid of them. There were so many risks, but at the end of the day, it was something I had to live with. If I wanted to keep Spencer alive – even if she chose never to speak to me again – then this was what I had to do. Save the wife, get rid of ghosts, get rid of Kelly. Simple as that.

I hated thinking about her during this time. Though it kept me motivated, it also made me realize more and more how wrong I was for Spencer. She deserved happiness, honesty, and good health. I couldn't give her any of those. Because of me her life was at risk, I couldn't tell her the truth about myself, and because I was keeping secrets, trust was always going to be an issue, and eventually carve away at any happiness we were supposed to have. Yet there was nothing I wanted more than run back to her and reassure her that I loved her with all my heart. Despite my shortcomings.

I sighed, trying to relax my shoulders as I sunk back onto the uncomfortable pillows, forcing my eyes shut.

It was even worse with my eyes closed, because all I saw was mesmerizing blue eyes and a pretty smile that was way too dangerous for my fragile heart.

* * *

Since online purchases were out of the question, I found myself driving all over LA to get all the necessary equipment for the big rescue mission.

With very little sleep I've decided on a plan of action, and didn't have much time to get everything I needed, get it set up and be at the right place at the right time to execute my plan – and hit.

It was just before noon when I stealthily made my way into the container terminal, parking deep into the third row away from the converted container. It was a bit too far for comfort, but I only had one chance at this.

Grabbing towards my laptop, I had it open on the screen to monitor John's whereabouts. I wished I had more time to plant a camera at the front walkway of his waterfront house – that way it would be easier to know whether he was still there, but my time was up. I had to make do with what I had.

The garage doors at John's house were closed as usual, and by quickly scanning through the already recorded footage, I could safely establish that he hadn't left the house yet. I hoped that he would stick to his nightly routines, otherwise I was going to be in big trouble.

With the laptop acting as my surveillance screen, I left it on the front seat and swiftly unpacked the new hardware I'd bought. I was grateful for remembering at the last minute to acquire some dynamic climbing rope and hooks, and a couple of para-cord bracelets which I immediately fastened to my arms. There was a possibility that I would need to get up onto the containers to take out John's men. And since I haven't been in shape as of late, relying on any physical skills I'd gained at the Agency was out of the question. I had to be prepared for anything.

The first row of shipping containers, facing the heavy duty door of the converted office, were only two stacks high. Though it would compromise my position somewhat, I was grateful that I didn't have to climb that high, especially since I'd have to do it for a whole couple of times.

It was already time to get up there for the first time. I urgently needed to assess the inside of that container and ensure there were only two men. And pray that Danielle was still there. And alive.

With the rope and hooks in hand, I surprised myself by automatically starting to tie Alpine Butterfly loops in the length of twenty-five feet of the rope. I didn't want to think about it, scared that my brain would strike a blank, but the way I worked as if I'd been doing this every single day of my life terrified and amused me at the same time. Whatever skills were taught to me, was literally _ingrained_ into my brain and body.

I tied the tactical grappling hook to one end, grabbed towards my rifle scope, and quickly made my way over to the back of the first row containers.

The advantage – probably the _only_ advantage – of doing this during daytime was that there was an incredible amount of noise from the port operations, much more than at nighttime. It took me a couple of swings to get the hook to grip onto a toprail and stick. I pulled a couple of times until it was definitely stuck, and hastily started grabbing onto the loops to hoist myself up. It was a lot harder than I thought – my arms were weak and I've definitely picked up weight since I stopped training. After a couple of tries to get myself off the ground, muscle memory kicked in, and I remembered to bring my knees up to push myself rather than pull. Had it not been for the knots, I'd never have made it to the top.

I was exhausted, panting hard and face red as I lifted myself over the top rail. Landing flat on my back I had to take a couple of minutes to catch my breath. I had no idea how I was going to make it up here again. Seventeen feet of climbing was high when you were not physically prepared for it.

I rolled onto my stomach and immediately the office container was in my line of sight. It seemed somewhat dark inside, and the small barricaded windows didn't offer much in terms of light or ventilation.

I focused my scope and slowly started from the back, hoping that the high wall wouldn't conceal the entire height of a person leaning against it. I needed to be absolutely sure that there were only two guys in there.

There wasn't much inside the office-slash-container; right at the back was a small closed off section containing a toilet and basin. In front of the closed makeshift stall door I finally recognized Danielle Miller, securely tied up to what seemed like a normal swiveling office chair. Her hands were behind her back, legs tied to the center piece, and mouth bound with a cloth. I couldn't see any blood stains or establish where they'd shot her. For the period of time she's been in captivity, she appeared fairly well looked after from what I could see.

Towards the middle of the office was a desk and a chair – the chair occupied by one of the perpetrators. A Glock rested casually on the edge of the desk in such a way that it would be easy to grab and shoot should the need arise. The second perpetrator sat towards the other end, his long legs up, feet resting on the edge of the same desk. A shotgun rested off the wall, also within proximity of his grasp.

And that was it. I was extremely curious what their plan was with Danielle. She probably knew some information that could still jeopardize the court case between the State and Polit-Enterprises, or she's seen something, or she had something that they wanted.

Either way, I didn't have any time to wonder about it. It was time to set my plan into motion.

* * *

Climbing up the containers for the third and last time, nerves started setting in. I've gone through every last detail about a million times in my head, but I had no guarantee that things would go according to plan. What made things even worse was that there was no protocol to follow; I could carry out my old ritual and pull the trigger whenever I felt like it.

The problem was I had to do it twice, in quick succession. _So_ quick, in fact, that the second guy would go down to the ground before he grabbed for his gun.

It was difficult to decide who to take out first. I was tempted to go for the guy with the shotgun first, since it could kill very easily at close range, or even kill me by accident if he just aimed towards me. But while the shotgun was more lethal, it was also slower to grab, aim, load and then shoot. The Glock was right there, I could see the safety pin was off. The gun was loaded, but you could survive it. Even perhaps dodge a bullet or two.

The perpetrators were the other issue. Mr. Glock was a big, bulky guy, while Mr. Shotgun was skinny - more bones than muscle. These things mattered when you had to account for every millisecond where something could go wrong. If I shot Mr. Shotgun first, Mr. Glock would maybe react a fraction of a second slower, but his aim would be steady. I wasn't concerned about myself; I was worried about Danielle Miller being in such close range. It could go one of two ways; I'd refocus and make the second shot just in time, or Danielle – or myself – went down. There was only one right answer.

I took a moment to calm myself down, to think things through one last time. I took in consideration where the perpetrators sat, _how_ they sat, the location of their weapons, and Danielle's body language. She was probably going to freak out. I couldn't afford to let her get hurt; by gunshot or accidentally hurting herself. This was going to be unexpected, quick, and hopefully _quiet_.

Since I had no confirmation orders, I gave myself time to get ready. It didn't matter whether this happened on the hour. It just had to _happen_ ; preferably before the guys got up, and most definitely before John Paxton made his appearance in an hour.

I was doing things on automation, amazed when the old physical ritual kicked in. I found the white tattooed scripted _S_ on the inside of my right wrist, surprised that I had completely forgotten about it. I knew by now that I would never know what it stood for, but unlike before, it _could_ have meaning now. Not that I wanted to use her as motivation to kill, but thinking about Spencer reminded me _why_ I was doing this. This was as much for the ghosts as it was for her, to keep her alive. I didn't care about myself anymore.

It was still a sad moment when my left index finger slowly traced it. I swallowed hard, wishing I didn't have to do this despite the reasons why.

I let out a sigh and moved on. Focused my scope. Changed my mind. Refocused. I locked onto the skinny target, my index finger curling around the metal trigger, tapping it three times.

 _Locked on target, awaiting confirmation_. That's what my words to Aiden would have been.

I started counting down from twenty, and disabled the safety switch. Still locked on, I counted down from thirty this time, knowing that it was way too late to back out now. I reached _one_ , and on its own, the muscles in my index finger pulled the trigger backward. It clicked. And a soft _whoosh_ released from the barrel of my A7.

A window shattered, a body got knocked down, a chair scraped back, and a loud, yet muffled shriek came from inside.

My heart thumped hard against my chest as I refocused, the second _whoosh_ escaping the A7 just as Mr. Glock had his pistol firmly in his hand.

It didn't matter. It was too late for him. Like his friend, his body sank down with a muted thud, and over the noise of the port operations, I could faintly make out a second shriek from Danielle Miller.

There was no time to think.

With my rifle slung over my shoulder, I grabbed the grappling hook, prying it loose from its position over the toprail, and dropped the rope from the stacked containers. Moving over to the front end I slid down the arms of the top container lock until I couldn't go further, and then let go. I knew the fall was going to be painful but at least eight and a half foot was better than seventeen. Grabbing the grappling hook and rope, I sprinted towards the office container, frantically fastening the hook around the locking system of the heavy duty door. Once secured, I apologized to my beloved Camaro while accurately using a Bowline knot to tie the other end of the rope to the undercarriage of the car.

It didn't take much for the door to give; I pressed hard on the accelerator pedal once and the heavy duty door got torn from its hinges, taking the security gate with it.

I had to pull it out of the way, knowing the door would be too heavy to lift up by myself. The car was definitely no _Eleanor_ , but she had some exhilarating power under that hood.

I was out of breath by the time I finally had my car – and the discarded door – back in the darkness of the third row of containers. A quick glance at the surveillance camera back at John's house indicated no movement at all, but I could never be too sure. I skipped back a couple of minutes, anxiously checking if maybe John had left already.

It wasn't time yet, according to his daily pattern, but I knew things could change at any given time. And it did. His silver Ranger Rover reversed out of the garage twenty minutes ago.

My heart sank and my body momentarily froze. Danielle was still inside; I had to get her out of there before John Paxton came back. I had to get to my next location to take him out once Danielle was out of harm's way.

Things were changing, and I started panicking. I had no backup like before. There was no-one to tell me what to do, to offer an escape plan. Though I _had_ one, my mission wasn't complete yet. The most vital part still had to happen. And already things started going wrong.

I ran as fast as my legs could carry me. The doorless office didn't look all that doorless until you were right in front of it, and I was thankful – perhaps John would think his guys may have opened it for ventilation.

Danielle was shell-shocked by the time I got to her. Tear streaks were still wet on her cheeks, her eyes wide and her body in a tremble as I set aside my rifle and bent down to start cutting through the ropes with a small Swiss-Army knife. I discovered the gunshot wound, thankfully only a graze, but through her left calf. She was going to have trouble walking, let alone running.

Things were changing again.

I had to think fast. If John had left twenty minutes before I saw the footage, I now only had half an hour left. I was terrified if he had to find us inside the container. My first priority was to get Danielle out, so I guided her up and wrapped her arm around my shoulder, effectively acting as a crutch.

"You're safe now, okay? I'm going to get you out of here," I murmured, knowing she'd fire loose with questions when we made our escape in the car. She was still in too much shock to realize what was happening anyway.

It took about twenty minutes to get her safely to the car. With blankets covering her shaken up body, I felt slightly relieved that there was no way anyone would ever find her there unless they drove into the third row for quite some distance.

But it left me with quite the distance to run.

Things were changing again.

Panic settled deep within me as I realized my rifle was still inside the container – I never took it with me when I dragged Danielle out. I made a beeline for it and as my hands closed around the barrel to pick it up, headlights flooded into the open container.

John Paxton has arrived.

I had no choice but to wait it out. He probably had a gun on him, and he would draw it when he stepped closer and realized the door and gate was completely gone.

My heart refused to calm down, my legs threatening to give out as lack of sleep and the strenuous activities for the day started catching up. There was nowhere to hide, but I had one last chance at survival.

Sitting down on the office chair previously occupied by Danielle, I pointed the barrel straight at the door. It didn't matter if I didn't get a headshot, as long as I got him before he got me. There were no rules that ever said I wasn't allowed to put a second bullet in him.

Over the noise of the port operations, my ears perked as shoes moved over gravel. It slowed down, and there was an eerie silence for a moment. In my mind's eye I could imagine a Glock pulled out of its holster. I could hear him click off the safety, and the slider releasing to chamber a round. The footsteps continued, slowly, until a shadow fell into the doorway, his body completely illuminated by the headlights he left on.

With bated breath I followed every movement of the shadow; I watched it increase in size as he was stepping closer, I watched the 9mm turning sideways, supposedly pointing somewhere towards me. It was too late for me to choose a different spot to sit and wait, so all I could do was make sure to pull my trigger first.

I didn't use the scope. I didn't carry out my ritual. I didn't wait for even a split-second to see who it was before my finger pulled back in reflex, releasing a bullet right into the forehead of John Paxton as he made his presence known.

* * *

For the very first time since I could remember, my own body was engulfed in paralyzed shock as I watched John's lifeless body. Unlike the case with Logan Jones, there was no remorse. I had no regard of a family who'd just lost a son, or whoever else may have been affected by John Paxton's death.

He was evil, and revenge had been served.

I could only hope that he wouldn't come back for _me_ in due time.

I sat there for probably five full minutes before I realized I had to get out of there. Danielle Miller wasn't out of the woods yet – I had to get her to a hospital, and fast. And then get the hell out of Long Beach.

With a quick glance through the container, I made sure to grab the knife I used to cut through Danielle's ropes, and this time, ensured my rifle was safely slung over my shoulder.

Three headshots; I hoped to God it didn't mean three more ghosts.

I stepped carefully over the bodies, not wanting to leave footprints in the blood. There was already a lot of DNA and evidence all over this crime scene. I've become sloppy.

But I didn't care. All I wanted was to get out, get rid of Kelly, and get to my girl.

Madison was right, there _was_ light at the end of the tunnel.

There was also still headlights shining right into the open container, blinding me completely as I stepped outside.

I heard it before I felt it.

The sound of a 9mm releasing a bullet, Dan Miller's familiar voice as he ranted what a _fucking bitch_ I was, and then a faint ringing in my ears as everything went blank…

* * *

 **Who's got my back - Creed**


	53. The last song I'm wasting on you

**A/N: Welcome to all the new readers (and reviewers)! Hope you enjoy this one. I'll be updating once more before Easter Weekend, and then I'll be back in a week :)**

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 **SON4LIFE – CH52 : My intention wasn't to confuse ;) I wish I could tell you what happens to Ashley, but I'll have to keep you in suspense for a bit longer! I don't know how I actually got into that – the whole ending with a twist thing. It happened in my previous fic as well and I guess it just stuck! Thank you for reading and reviewing, hope you enjoy this chapter!**

 **Anjela78 – CH51 : I hope you didn't have to wait too long ;) Have a great day and enjoy this chapter! Thanks for reading and reviewing :)**

 **TheDWall – CH52 : Perhaps I should change my pen-name to Cliffhanger ;) While this might not be the chapter everyone is hoping for, it is very crucial to the storyline, so… enjoy! Thank you for reading and reviewing!**

 **Guest – CH52 : I wish I could answer all your questions, but that would ruin the story for you! It's really not that long before a lot of things will be answered, though. So keep on checking for updates ;) Thank you for reading and reviewing!**

 **GirlsOnly – CH52 : Haha, sorry to keep you waiting and make you wait even longer! I can't answer any of those questions – you'll just have to read to find out! Thank you for reading and reviewing!**

 **ToriDub – CH52 : Detective ToriDub, this chapter will leave you with so many questions you might end up wanting to slap me :P I just realized while reading your review that my additional character names are rather… unoriginal. Dan Miller, Danielle Miller – it's all the same! When I thought about the Dan Miller character I had Dan Scott from One Tree Hill in mind, he was an a-hole and so suited to build my imaginary Mayoral candidate on. Anyway, just some useless info there. The fact that you can visualize the scenes are making me jump up and down in my chair – that's where I'm trying to go with my writing. Not everyone will agree since not everyone is into novel-reading, but the readers who'd been sticking it out are Super Awesome. And yes, of course that includes you :) You were the only one that reviewed on that chapter, the other reviews came in just after I updated. I will be dedicating some chapters towards the end to all the fantastic supporters, however ;) Hope you enjoy this one! Thank you for reading (analyzing) and reviewing!**

 **Vanessa – CH52 : Thank you for the compliments! I wish I could give you longer chapters but then I would have had to change the structure of the entire story. And as many as there are (80), I'm sure everyone eventually wants to see that happy Spashley ending. But… after this there is another fic in the pipeline, I'm already busy with the plotting and though it won't be as long and definitely not as dark as Ghost of an Angel, I hope it will be equally enjoyable for you. Enjoy the update and thank you for reading and reviewing!**

 **Southtrash – CH52 : I always love to see reviews from you, even if it's short and on the go ;) Thank you for reading and reviewing, hope you enjoy this one!**

 **K1989 – CH51 : I can answer this one honestly for you; Aiden isn't/wasn't working with Dan (darn, why didn't I ever think of that! ;) – but… there might still be a surprise or two when it comes to Mr. Dennison. I don't hate the guy, I promise! He's just in the wrong story at the wrong time! ;) Hope you enjoy this update, thank you so much for always reading and reviewing!**

 **SoNFan – CH51 : I hope you enjoy this chapter. A lot of questions will be raised in this one and answered in the next, keep on checking for updates ;) Thank you for reading and reviewing!**

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 **I have a rom-com in the pipeline for my next fic, but to avoid slacking on _Ghost_ , I'm only doing the plotting now and will post the first chapter once this fic is complete. Thanks to every single person reading up to this far, thanks for all the reviews, follows, favorites – it all really means a lot to me! **

**Let's get on with it :)**

* * *

 **Kyla**

 **The last song I'm wasting on you**

 _"Kyla, uhm, yeah. How are you? I'm sorry I've been out of touch. I guess the department phoned you then?"_

This was somewhat unexpected. Detective Carlin sounded apologetic, guilty almost, and I was curious to know what was going on. Maybe they knew already – maybe they found out and he was just nervous to tell me.

"Phoned me about what?" He was giving me an escape, and it was making me nervous. I looked to Debbie for help, but she had no idea what the conversation was about. Since she knew everything anyway, I removed the phone from my ear, activated Speaker, and carefully set the device down on the coffee table.

 _"Oh, I guess they didn't then. Look, I'm really sorry about this, I only found out last night and it's still early here, I didn't think you were up already. The status on your sister's file had been downgraded from cold case to closed."_

Debbie's eyes went wild and I almost choked on nothing. _"What?"_

This was unbelievable! Why would they do that? How did Ashley do this – were they just going to let her get away with murder?

 _"I'm so sorry, Kyla. By law, if someone's been missing for seven years they're legally declared dead. We managed to get an extra year because of the new information, but it's all cold leads."_

I wanted to laugh and cry at the same time. There was no way I was going to let Ashley get away with this. It was just too easy for her.

"Look, Detective Carlin, I think – "

 _"Kyla,"_ he sighed, and I knew he thought I was putting up a fight to not give up, but he had no idea. No idea. The magnitude of the news I was about to drop on him was enormous.

"Ashley's not dead," I stated before he could interrupt me again.

There was a slight pause and another sigh. _"I'm sorry Kyla, but – "_

"No, I mean, she's not _dead_. She's very much alive, and also… she killed Sasha Miller."

We heard a thud and for a moment I thought Detective Carlin may have passed out, but he recovered quickly. _"I'm sorry, what?"_

"It's a lot to explain, I think I may have to catch a flight out to LA. But she's alive, detective. And she's who you've been looking for all along."

 _"Kyla, do you understand how serious your allegations are? You're accusing someone of murder, of assassinating the_ Mayor's daughter _. Do you honestly think a woman who's been missing since the age of seventeen is capable – "_

"Are you even _listening_ to yourself? She's been missing for eight years. She'd been trained to do this for _eight_ years. If you don't want to believe me, I'll go to someone else."

 _"How do you know all this?"_

This was the part I didn't like telling, and I was sure the detective wasn't going to like to hear. "Well, uhm… that day of the shooting at your precinct… that rookie, he found a clear snapshot. When I saw who it was I stole the photo before the chaos…" My voice died down and I held my breath for his reaction. I was relieved that I didn't have to reveal this to his face.

 _"So you stole evidence. That is a felony, Kyla. I should have you arrested."_ He sounded incredibly annoyed, but not angry like I thought he'd be.

"Are you?" I challenged him.

Detective Carlin sighed and I could picture him contemplating what to do. This was a lot to process, but for him it was just a job. For me, it's been a waste of eight years of my life. Eight years dedicated to a cold-blooded killer. Eight years of rejected boyfriends and commitments and relationships that I would never get back again.

 _"No, I'm not. Get whatever you have and book a flight to San Francisco, I'm still visiting my parents. We'll reimburse you for all your travel costs. Send me your itinerary, I'll pick you up at the airport and we'll take it from there. And Kyla, not a word to anyone. You are now equivalent to a key witness and this is going to get chaotic."_

Well, shit.

I knew, Debbie knew, Paige knew _of_ Ashley. Jack knew something fishy was going on. I wanted to tell the detective all of that, but Debbie shook her head in disagreement, her finger over her lips to make me vow silence on the situation. I trusted Debbie implicitly. So I didn't say a word.

"Okay, I'll book a flight and let you know, just give me some time to get everything together."

 _"_ _Are you sure you want to do this? You're not going to back out halfway on your way here, are you? Because that would make you an accessory to murder, and I'd hate to see that happen to you, Kyla."_

Back _out_? Was he _serious_? "See you in a couple of hours, Detective Carlin."

* * *

It didn't sink in until my feet touched ground at San Francisco International, and Detective Carlin - ever the gentleman - reached towards my suitcase, that I was about to rat out flesh and blood.

I smiled nervously as he walked us to his sleek white BMW M Coupe, my stomach uneasy and my palms sweaty. It didn't cross my mind until now that he could still arrest me, even though he wasn't in his own jurisdiction. A case this big, I was sure anybody who had any information in any State could be held for questioning.

But Detective Carlin eased my nerves a little as he pulled out of the parking lot of the busy airport, and asked me if I was comfortable for a forty-five minute drive towards the Bay Area.

"I'm sorry that I'm not giving you a chance to rest properly, I just need to get as much information from you while it's still fresh, and obviously while you're still determined to tell me what's going on."

He was sweet, and surprisingly very accurate with his impression of me. But however both nervous and devastated I was, I would never be able to live with myself knowing I was protecting a murderer if I'd decided to back out. "Detecti-"

"Please, call me Glen. It's shorter and more comfortable on the nerves." He shot me a goofy look before concentrating on the road again.

" _Glen_ ," I reiterated with a smile of my own. I had to give it to him, he had a charm on him that made it easy to want to talk to him. "I have to be honest, I _am_ nervous, and I haven't slept in like, two days probably, I may still be somewhat hung over, even. Despite all of that, I just know that this is too big for me. I can't… I can't live with myself not doing anything."

I watched him listen attentively and eventually offer a nod in acceptance. He checked his blind spot before changing lanes, and finally chanced me a glance before we made our way onto the elegant Oakland Bay Bridge.

"You're doing the right thing, Kyla. I know it's easy for me to say because I'm a cop, but…" He sighed, focusing intently on the road, and eventually just shook his head in defeat. "Fuck, I don't know how you do it. I don't know what I would've done."

I was slightly confused. "Do you have any siblings?"

I saw him flinch a little and knew it was sensitive territory. "Yeah."

I didn't press any further, and I forced myself not to think about the morality of my decision to rat out Ashley either. I tried to enjoy the scenery instead, grateful that we didn't have to do this in that godforsaken LA again. San Francisco actually had something to offer. The air felt cleaner, despite heavy fog it was so much better than the intoxicating smog LA was so engulfed in. And like the dirty air, everything else felt _dirty_. I was probably biased because every time I went there something terrible happened, but the place just had too much bad vibes for me to handle.

"You okay with coffee on the beach? It helps me clear my head sometimes," Glen announced some time later. I haven't even realized that I must have drifted off.

"Odd combination but I can definitely do with both, so yes, count me in," I smiled. I paid attention to our surroundings as we drove through a decent residential area, filled with beautiful condos and lush green fenced yards. I could feel the density of the air change as we got closer to the beach, and it felt like I'd just inhaled heaven.

"I'd never get bored of this smell. These people are so lucky."

Glen chuckled and put the car in park, hastily jumping out to open the passenger door for me.

I took a moment to appreciate everything around me that offered tranquility. The sight of the beach; waves crashing lazily onto the hot sand. The sunny day. The handful of beach goers in the middle of the week. And a quaint little shop offering life juice. It was everything I needed to keep me grounded.

I followed Glen inside the coffee shop and smiled politely at the barista as he addressed her by name.

"Hey, Monica. Can I have the usual, please? Kyla?" He turned to me, brows raised.

I stared at the large overhead menus, too overwhelmed by all the choices. I settled for a normal Joe and smiled in anticipation. Perhaps plain strong coffee would do me some good.

"Will that be sit down or are you headed out?"

I listened to the girl chat to Glen as if they'd grown up together. It still amazed me how this goofy-looking young detective was at such a prime of his career already. People underestimated him far too quickly - I was one of those - but perhaps that was what made him so successful. Given his age and the way he could talk to anyone without them feeling intimidated, he had half the population eating out of his hand before he'd even have to start doing his job.

My theory was substantiated even further when another barista appeared from the little kitchen area, his face lighting up when he saw Glen.

"Detective C! I'm stoked to see you, man! How long are you in the Bay for? You keen to join me ride out some ankle busters?" The hair, the tan, and most definitely the lingo screamed surfer.

"Hey Dylan!" Glen moved around the counter and gave his friend a strong man-hug. "I've been here for two weeks already. Monica's been enjoying some good LA tipping. Where've you been?"

Dylan chuckled and pulled away, and I couldn't help but notice his eyes shine as he spoke. "Won the Fort Point tournament, _finally_ , man!"

"What? You're joking!" Glen exclaimed. He winked at Monica and continued to act surprised. "He's joking, right?"

I felt like an outsider looking in as they shared what seemed like a private joke. Or moment. It didn't really bother me, but it did make me miss Debbie. She was that one - and probably the only - person I had that got me like Glen got Dylan, and the other way around. While I had no idea how long Glen knew these people, I knew that it took years of friendship to truly understand each other's struggles, goals, and dreams.

The way Dylan's eyes lit up as he revealed what seemed like a dream come true, I couldn't help but be envious of the happy moment while I felt bitter about my own dream having gone up in flames just days ago.

Eight years.

The anger of what I've given up for Ashley was overriding every moment of pain I felt for not being able to find her, to connect with her. Since I've found out I had a sister, it's become my biggest dream to build a relationship with her. To get to know my estranged, late father through her.

But she'd taken all of that and destroyed it single-handedly by merely existing.

"You ready?"

It wasn't like me to disappear into my thoughts like this, but lately it's all I've been doing. I blamed Ashley for all of it, without reservation.

Glen held out my coffee with a smile, waiting patiently for me to accept.

"Sure, let's go."

* * *

We walked a fair distance from the coffee shop to the first pier, and when Glen indicated we'd stop and sit down, I was exceedingly grateful. I wasn't unfit, but the lack of sleep and alcohol that was finally dissipating from my bloodstream had me in a lethargic state.

"So…" Glen shuffled to get comfortable and took a small sip of his coffee. "I get this is difficult, you seem a little shell-shocked. So take your time, I'm not judging you, okay?"

How was this guy still single? Or not married, at least. I couldn't see a ring on his finger. Not only was he very attentive, he was also sweet and _considerate_. And he said the three most important words woman wants to hear… _I'm not judging_.

I smiled and took a deep breath, my mind already starting to run away from me. Memories and thoughts and words were all over the place.

"Tell me what happened at the police station," Glen offered, his eyes soft, accepting the situation for what it was.

I felt such a huge loss the moment I opened my mouth and started recounting that fateful day. It was as if I was truly giving up on Ashley, accepting her fate, accepting her as good as dead, because that's what she was going to be once this got out. But it was still difficult and so very painful. Part of me still wanted to protect her so badly, to shut up and find her and whisk her away to a better life and teach her some family – and _moral_ – values. But the other part, the angry, let down part, kept talking. Explained the moment the rookie stepped into their office, extremely excited. I remembered his blush as he realized I was the only one there, his words dying mid-sentence. He was sweet enough to ask if someone had assisted me. Then he put the photographs down on Glen's table, far away from my prying eyes.

I remembered being curious but I wasn't going to break the law by looking at confidential photographs. I remembered swiveling around in my chair, grateful that Ashley had an entire whiteboard dedicated to her case, unlike before where there was only a call log and the original missing person's report in her file. And I remembered Sasha Miller's dedicated whiteboard, and how uneasy I felt looking at the gruesome pictures of a crime scene I was physically at a day after it happened. A crime scene where another person was found dead, shot right in his forehead, by none other than Ashley Davies.

I didn't see a photo – thank goodness – but the information was there. Together with pictures of body bags and pools of blood and another of a bullet casing, found several feet away.

It was incredibly difficult to think of the girl in my picture, the girl in school with her confident smirk, as the same girl in the snapshot provided by the police. The snapshot where that very same girl looked haunted as she was making her escape.

I hoped all these people she killed haunted her for the rest of her life.

"Did you bring the pictures?" Glen asked softly. We both knew it was the only evidence he would have for a while, until his department could afford to put someone back on a case they deemed closed, to start searching for that same snapshot again.

My heart was torn. It broke because handing those pictures over was the finality of it all; the ultimate betrayal to my long-lost sister. I wished there was another way to do this, I wished I could see her and ask her what the hell was _wrong_ with her. Why was she doing this?

It took a while before I finally admitted with a nod that I did bring the crucial evidence. I couldn't verbally speak out what my mind wanted me to say. Because my heart was just not in the same place. It was shattered. Devastated at the loss.

"You know what?" Glen asked softly, his hand on my shoulder, squeezing gently. He waited until I looked up at him with teary eyes.

"Hold onto them for now, I can see this is hard on you. Have you booked a room or something or would you feel up to meeting my crazy family? There's plenty of space to sleep and maybe it will do you some good to be surrounded by people."

I knew he meant that it would do me good to not flee the State with the incriminating evidence I had in my bag. "Are you scared that I'm going to run?" I chuckled daringly. He had it right to worry about that.

"Are _you_ scared that you're going to run?" he asked gently, though he already had his answer.

I nodded and let out a heavy sigh.

"Kyla, just so you know, from one sibling to another; despite me being a cop, I think morally it would have been just as difficult for me to accept. I don't know if I ever would have been able to do the right thing."

* * *

When Glen mentioned meeting his crazy family, I'd expected to meet the pretty blonde, blue-eyed girl like in the picture, wearing her graduation gown, offering a toothy smile to the camera. It was hard not to see the resemblance between her and Glen. And I expected to meet the adopted brother with his beautiful fiancé, like in the other picture, and just, no matter how much it hurt, to enjoy dinner with a fully functioning _family_.

But that wasn't the case.

I was distracted when doctor Paula Carlin passed along the baked potatoes and smiled at me. "So, Kyla, Glen mentioned you're from the east coast. Any chance you could convince him that New York doughnuts are _the_ best in the world?"

Glen scoffed. "Is _not_. I'll have you know that Joe's has killed the myth that the best foods are from its origin."

Arthur laughed heartily, and I felt my own heartstrings pull, wondering what my own father would have sounded like when he laughed. "Son, that's what he _wants_ you to believe. You're his biggest supporter – 9th Division will soon size up and become a ten. And before we know it, you're all eighteens and can't run after crooks anymore."

The entire table erupted in laughter. I chuckled softly, enjoying Arthur's sense of humor, and Glen's gullibility to step into it every single time. I heard Chelsea chuckle next to me too, and I turned and smiled at her, feeling so much more at ease than this afternoon.

There was a sadness looming behind the Carlin family's eyes, but they pushed through and remained as functional as could be. I wondered if I would ever have that. I wondered if I'd ever get over Ashley's drama and finally be able to give my undivided attention to some knight in shining armor; get engaged, marry him, and raise our own little family.

The rest of dinner was delightful as much as it was delicious. Arthur Carlin was an excellent cook. Paula Carlin was the perfect hostess, and Glen and Chelsea were ever the entertainers. I enjoyed listening to the trio of doctors tell stories of strange cases they've had, and Glen supplementing California's craziness with horror stories from his precinct in LA.

It was almost midnight, and we were halfway through a repeat of a Lakers game when Arthur finally yawned and declared that he was ready for bed.

"Dad, before you go, can I, uh, can we talk to you for a second?"

I frowned at Glen, wondering what this was all about. I didn't recall having any questions for the doctor other than my curiosity about the two children that _weren't_ in the house.

"Sure, son, what's up?"

Arthur sat back down on his reclining chair. I was still curled up on the single sofa while Glen had been making himself comfortable on the three-seater. I chanced a glance at the goofy detective, and then his astute father.

Glen cleared his throat and threw an uneasy glance at me. "Kyla, uhm, she's not just a friend from New York. We're working on a case together and it's personal and difficult. She's doing something _astronomical_ , dad. I was uhm, I was wondering, if without telling you all the detail, if you could just, I don't know, just be here for her?"

The tears were rolling before I could even stop it. I didn't know whether to be upset or grateful for the Carlins' support. While I was comfortable and happy to have pushed everything about Ashley from my mind for the evening, I knew the moment I was left by myself it would all come running back tenfold.

Arthur Carlin didn't need any explanation; he was brilliant at reading people. "Glen, why don't you go make us some coffee?"

* * *

"You know, the first time I saw you, you reminded me of this young girl I've been treating. Round about your age, perhaps a year younger. She got knocked over by a drunk driver and woke up alone and with memory loss. She looked _lost_ , to be honest. And I can see the same feature in you."

It was strange, how suddenly a lot of people told me I looked familiar, and all I wanted to do was throw up. Chances were that a lot of them _have_ perhaps seen Ashley, a cold-blooded killer, and made the distant connection. Like Paige. I was just grateful that there was no way Arthur could ever have met Ashley. Glen would have known, and he would have found my missing sister before we found the professional assassin. I would have been happy and none the wiser, unless of course, she'd ever have the guts to tell me what she did for a living.

"And it's okay to feel lost, because it gives you that opportunity to find something great within you again. For my patient it's a bit different – she still haven't regained her memory and there's a lot of trauma that she's going through, but _you_ have that chance to be _great_ , Kyla. I don't know what it is that you guys are working on, but if Glen says it's huge, then I do believe him."

I sighed and thought about the case as a whole, taking Ashley – as my sister – out of the equation. It _was_ an enormous case. People died, _innocent_ people, like Sasha Miller. She had her entire life ahead of her. We had no idea how many others there were. Glen was going to have his hands full when he returned to LA. The point was, we were doing something good for humankind. We were saving lives. _Multiple_ lives.

And then there was Ashley. A single life. My heart still just wanted to save that one life.

"Kyla," Arthur pressed gently. His hand rested on my shoulder, and I offered a shaking sob.

"If you had the choice between saving someone close to you, or saving hundreds of innocent lives, who would you choose?" Our eyes met as I looked up, and I saw the understanding dawn in Arthur's clear blue orbs when he grasped my question.

He cleared his throat and softened his voice, probably so Glen couldn't hear from the kitchen. "As a Doctor and law abiding citizen, it's in my blood to save as many lives as I can. But as a father…" He sighed and closed his eyes for a second. "I'd do anything to save my family first. If I had to break the law to do that," he checked again to see that Glen wasn't within earshot. "I'd do _anything_ to keep them safe."

While Arthur's words didn't give me a clear indicator as to what extent he'd actually go to keep his family safe, his determination and resolve to know way in advance how far he would go was what tilted me to a more conclusive resolution.

Ashley didn't need anyone to keep _her_ safe. The _world_ needed to be kept safe from _her_. I thought about Debbie and how far I would go out of my way to protect her should she ever be in harm's way, and I realized that hypothetically, if Ashley ever had to take Debbie's life for whatever reason, I would never forgive _myself_. Because _I_ would've let Ashley get away with murder, only to kill people I cared about.

It was with that conclusion that I knew I'd be ready to hand over the pictures to Glen in the morning.

* * *

 **The last song I'm wasting on you – Evanescence**


	54. Angel of Mercy

**A/N: To be safe, this chapter rating is M for violence. I know it's kindof sucky timing, being Easter and all. Anyway…**

 **Happy Easter everyone!**

 **I don't know if this is good news but I want to let you all know anyway; I've shortened the fic by 10 chapters, the reason being that I've combined some recently, and some chapters towards the very end will be much longer. I can't say that we'll end up on exactly 70 chapters, but it will be somewhere in that vicinity.**

* * *

 **Anjela78 – CH53 : Thank you very much, and happy Easter to you too ;) Unfortunately Kyla has made up her mind – stay tuned to see how all of that turns out! Hope you enjoy this chapter, thanks for reading and reviewing!**

 **SON4LIFE – CH53 : You haven't been reading too much into that, but that's about all I can say right now! ;P You will find out more about the Carlins very soon, keep on checking for updates ;) Hope you enjoy this chapter, thanks for reading and reviewing!**

 **Guest – CH53 : Thank you for the compliments :) Hope you enjoy this chapter, thanks for reading and reviewing!**

 **southtrash – CH53 : Aw man I actually love that idea – the whole redemption thing for Ashley by saving Kyla. But unfortunately when I did the plotting I didn't even think of that – and right now I have to stick to the outlines super strictly in order not to mess things up or drag the fic out even longer! But thanks though! Great idea ;) Hope you enjoy this chapter, thanks for reading and reviewing!**

 **SoNFan – CH53 : It is a difficult decision indeed, I hope the chapter did Kyla's inner struggles some justice. Hope you enjoy this chapter, thanks for reading and reviewing!**

 **GirlsOnly – CH53 : Yes it was difficult, and I'm relieved that Kyla's struggle was obvious to the readers ;) This chapter explains what happens to Ashley, hope it's not too gruesome. Spencer's story will start very soon, I'm literally a handful of chapters away before the Carlin mystery will start unraveling ;)** **Hope you enjoy this chapter, thanks for reading and reviewing!**

 **ToriDub – CH53 : Let's start with the Glen/Kyla substory; there might be some (but very little) romance flaring but you'd literally have to read carefully not to miss it. The reason for that I cannot reveal right now, but later on you'll understand ;) I can't say much about Arthur and the Carlins other than what I told GirlsOnly – it's literally** ** _so_** **close – even** ** _I'm_** **excited! ;) And yes, there is a reason why Kyla chose to do the "right" thing; the way I understood her character in SON, if we ignore the phase where she hooked up with Jake and messed up so badly, was that she was kindof caring in the sense of the things she did. For me I could imagine her being a very strong willed person but also fairly level headed. I hope that's what I've been able to portray in this fic. And though this was the last chapter from her point of view (hence the chapter name), her story is not over quite yet. But that's all I'm saying :P** **In the meantime, here's the scoop on what happened to Ashley. Hope you enjoy this chapter, thanks for reading and reviewing!**

* * *

 **Ashley**

 **Angel of Mercy**

"Agent Davies… had a nice nap?"

The pain registered long before anything else. I grunted against the balled up fabric in my mouth, pressed in _so_ deep that parts of it tickled the back of my throat, arising a desperate need to vomit. I wasn't sure whether it was because of the metal taste or the fact that I didn't know where the cloth came from.

My eyelids felt heavy and swollen; it was particularly difficult to lift them so I could start assessing my surroundings and determine how much shit I was in.

I couldn't move my arms or legs; tight, coarse rope chafed through my wrists, close to the point of cutting off blood circulation. My ankles were tied as tightly, but at least the cotton-synthetic blend that made up my rugged black cargos offered some protection against the rough, hairy rope.

The horizontal position I was in, together with the constant pressure on one side of my body, indicated I was lying on the floor.

An excruciating pain pulsed through my abdomen. With the way I was laid down, it felt like a magnet was forcing all my intestines to the floor. I couldn't exactly pinpoint where the pain was originating from, and it didn't make sense that it was hurting so much.

"Stop squirming, you're going to bleed out on my office floor."

 _Bleed out?_

Light seeped into my eyes and though it took a moment to focus, flashbacks of what happened quickly brought me up to speed. The voice belonged to none other than Dan Miller, and the bastard had shot me. We were still in the shipping container terminal – the surrounding noise a dead giveaway. I gathered he'd dragged me into the converted office after he pulled that trigger on me.

A smug smirk appeared in my line of vision and I grunted again, wishing he'd at least remove the disgusting cloth from my mouth.

"How does it feel? To be on the receiving end of a bullet? I didn't mean to aim for your stomach, but you _did_ startle me a bit. I mean, I come here with my associate, minding my own business. We're about to start negotiating with the lovely Mrs. Danielle Miller, only to find out she's gone."

Dan stood up, and all I could really do was follow his black Premium Leather Derbies, shining as if it had been polished just minutes ago. It was impossible to lift my head without black spots swimming in front of me and dizziness overtaking my senses.

I forced myself to take a slow, deep breath, and closed my eyes briefly, trying to make sense of all of this. Dan Miller wanted something from me, otherwise he would have aimed for my chest, my head, or even pulled that trigger multiple times.

That, or he was first going to torture me and _then_ kill me.

"Tell me, Agent Davies," Dan's footsteps vibrated close to me, forcing me to try and look up and see what he was doing. "Or I can't even really call you that anymore, can I? You don't work for the Agency anymore. Which is of great concern to me, really."

His aged knees clicked as he squatted down in front of me, a hand reaching out to grip my hair and painfully pulled my head back. I cried out against the gag, tears unwillingly escaping the corners of my eyes at his action. Dan noticed, and his smirk grew even wider.

"Let's play a game, shall we?" He yanked my hair once again, forcing my head into a nod. He was enjoying this far too much. "How about… I remove that gag, and then you tell me where Danielle is, and who sent you to come and get her. If you play along, I might consider ending you quick and painless. What do you say?"

Another yank until I finally grunted against the cloth again.

"I'm sorry, I didn't get that?" Dan was a sadistic asshole. He laughed at his own joke and finally released the tight grip he had on my hair, my head dropping down with a thud as if gravity was the same magnet still tugging at my organs in my stomach.

I had to fight off the nausea extremely hard as his large, calloused hands brushed against my cheeks, reaching towards the back of my head to untie the sloppy knot of the piece of cloth keeping the smaller cloth in my mouth. The moment it fell out of my mouth I started coughing, and then the bile came up with it.

"No! Not the shoes!" Dan exclaimed mockingly, jumping back as a mixture of spit and blood speckled the expensive black leathers.

I was concerned about the blood but had no time to mull over my current physical condition; I knew Dan had a lot more in store for me than just the bullet to the stomach and punches he'd landed to my face while I was out.

He disappeared out of sight for another moment – this time I craned my neck and followed his movements. I watched him lift the make-shift stall door off its hinges and set it aside to lean against the shipping container wall. He reached out and flushed the elongated toilet twice, causing an alarming spike in my heart rate.

Things really didn't look good for me. He wanted answers that I could simply not give him – not that I didn't _want_ to, but because he would never believe me. No matter what I told him, whether it was the truth or a bunch of lies, it was going to upset him.

"You know," he said calmly, almost with a sinister trace in his voice. Dan stepped closer towards me again, bending slightly, his arms reaching underneath mine. His hands locked together over my collarbone and he pulled me towards the stall area, his feet shuffling easily to get me there. Perhaps I haven't picked up as much weight as I thought. Pity.

"Back in the day, when I was in the military, and then moved over to bigger things like Feds, we were taught some interesting tactics. It was especially to deal with people like you." He had me lean against the toilet bowl, bending my knees to kneel facing the opening, and my heart dropped.

"Marksmen were all considered somewhat of sociopaths. Social personality disorder if you will. They become cold, untrusting. My mentor's words, as I recall, were that people like you never trust anyone with anything at any time. It blocks you from the world. It's a mantra that protects you. That is your comfort zone. So you know what I'm going to do, right?"

I knew what he was going to do, but I was dumbstruck. There was no way out of this for me. I had no idea how long I had left given the gunshot wound I'd sustained, but to go out being tortured caused a level of anxiety in me that I had no control over. This was not how I wanted things to end.

Dan grabbed me by the hair again, his grip firm at the back of my head as he unexpectedly pushed my upper body forward, and then down – right into the toilet bowl. I felt him move behind me, and seconds later he flushed the toilet again, my face instantly wet with cold water. I didn't even have a chance to take a breath, to try and hold it in for as long as I could. My head was completely submerged and he just kept holding me there.

I squirmed as much as I possibly could, trying to break free of his grip. Water already mixed with oxygen in my lungs, causing me to choke on nothing but more water. I was desperate to take a deep breath but was terrified to do so. Was my life really going to be over so quickly? I felt him move against me again, and seconds later it was as if I had stuck my head right into a breaking wave. Pockets of air was all around me but not enough to grab and swallow to provide oxygen to my lungs. The turbulence caused by the flushing was disorientating; I squeezed my eyes shut in the hope that it would help me keep my lips sealed as tight as possible.

It felt like hours, but in reality, one flush lasted about seven seconds. Dan flushed the toilet once more, the time he forced my head underwater adding up to one minute at most, before he pulled me back by my wet hair.

I coughed hard and appreciatively, drinking up air as if it was about to disappear if I didn't. I heard Dan laughing behind me, easing up a little on the grip he had on my hair. Time was of essence here, I had to concentrate on his body language to anticipate his next move.

"For a marksman like you, Agent Davies, the thing that will get you talking, is to make you uncomfortable. That was at least a _little_ uncomfortable, right?"

My answer came in coughs and more desperate attempts to gasp for fresh air. There was a tickling feeling in my chest and my nasal cavity was burning from the water.

"So… are you going to tell me who sent you?" Dan's fist closed tightly around my hair but he offered me an opportunity to speak up. "It can't be the Agency, Ashley. Who sent you?"

I felt tears prickling at my eyes. How was I ever going to explain this to him without sounding completely demented?

"Silence is not going to help your situation here, Agent Davies. The longer you keep me guessing, the longer I'll be causing you discomfort."

I felt his grip tightening and took a deep breath in preparation for the next time he pushed my head under water. I was grateful that he didn't realize I knew; _this_ time when the turbulent water rushed up my nostrils I pressed my tongue against my palate and squeezed my lips shut. Though I blocked the water out, however, the lack of oxygen _in_ still had me fighting and fidgeting in agony.

Dan held my head under for longer this time. I counted four flushes and ninety-five seconds passed before he pulled my head up.

I felt dizzy and at the brink of passing out. It took a while before the black spots in my vision disappeared and for my lungs to expand with enough air. I was audibly wheezing. Still, I had no idea what to tell him.

"Who sent you, Davies?" Dan was losing his temper. There was an edge to his voice and I realized things were about to get much worse.

 _"_ _Who sent you, Ashley?"_ he bellowed again. His grip tightened but before I could react, he pushed forward, crushing the side of my face against the rim of the toilet bowl.

I yelped out in pain. A rush of warmth trickled down my face where skin split against my cheekbone. There was a buzz in my ears and it was hard to stay vigilant, to try and predict what damage he was about to inflict next.

"I can do this all day, Davies, but _you_ won't last that long. Tell me!" My head was back in the toilet before I could take the needed deep breath. As it started flushing the water went in everywhere; my nose, my mouth, tickling my eyes and ears. My body shook uncontrollably as I coughed, pushing air _out_ of my lungs and gulping _in_ even more water. My lungs felt like it was on fire and my heart pulsed painfully through every vein in my body, slowing down enough to cease blood from thoroughly pumping to my organs. I had little energy left and knew whatever happened from here on out was probably going to be it.

My opened eyes stung, this time not from the cold water but from warm tears disappearing in the volume of air pockets and water around me. The light seeping in from the small windows darkened out, until all I could see in front of me was the sweetest smile, the kindest blue eyes, and a short showreel of the happiest moments of my life.

Spencer.

The coughing turned to choked back sobs as I realized how I've failed her. She would never know that she was the one thing, the one person, who'd breathed life back into me. She would never know that I had loved her from the moment I first saw her, and even though I was about to die, my love for her never would. She would never know how sorry I was; for hurting her, breaking her heart, lying to her, for everything I pretended to be just to see a smile on her face.

The image of her started fading out, and panic set in. I was able to let go with Spencer at the forefront of my mind, but the darkness, the _blankness_ , made me too anxious. I jerked violently, screaming under the water, fighting for all it was worth until I felt myself being yanked backwards – _so_ hard that I landed on my back with a painful thud.

I forced out water and blood and bile as I coughed hard, desperately trying to breathe air back into my suffocated lungs and speed up my pulse a bit. It was difficult; one leather Derby connected with my stomach several times, sending electrifying jolts through my body. Dan was probably not aware that him kicking me was similar to jumpstarting my heart again.

Had I known that an angel in the form of Danielle Miller was standing in the open doorway, my rifle pointed straight at Dan, I would not have stupidly uttered out that Sean Miller sent me.

Through the ringing of my ears I heard a soft female gasp and an astonished male _"What?"_

The distraction of her gasp was all it took for Dan to take note and lunge towards Danielle.

However hard I prayed that she would pull the trigger in time, I knew that this wasn't something Danielle Miller should have on her conscience for the rest of her life. She may have hated Dan for having her kidnapped, and perhaps she knew by now that Sean wasn't killed by the bank robbers that day at the court, but ultimately pulling a trigger on someone didn't take away all that pain.

It just made it all worse.

I tried to stutter out a desperate _no_ , but it was too late. Dan was practically on top of Danielle. She didn't get to pull the trigger; he pushed the barrel down to the ground and forcefully tried to yank the rifle from her hands.

Neither of them had anticipated that she would so easily be able to pull the trigger, sending a high velocity bullet through an expensive leather Derby, crushing bones without difficulty and exiting right into the shipping container's floor.

Dan let out an excruciating loud wail – I would too if someone shot me through the foot at such close range with a sniper rifle – and _this_ distraction was enough for Danielle to yank the gun back and with just a soft nudge, knocked Dan against the temple with the butt plate, causing him to topple over, out cold.

Adrenaline rushed through my body, effectively blocking out all the pain, and I gasped to Danielle to find my knife to cut me loose. I would gladly put a bullet in Dan – she didn't have to even see me do it, but we didn't have a lot of time.

She found the knife on the office desk and swiftly started cutting through the coarse – now soaking – rope, wincing on behalf of me at the sight of my bruised and bloodied wrists.

I didn't care about the pain, I didn't care about anything other than breaking free and getting the hell out of here. Danielle had given me the biggest gift anyone could ever ask for – a second chance. I wasn't going to waste a single second longer to get to Spencer.

We heard sirens over the noise of the port operations and Danielle confessed that she went looking for help when she heard the shot go off after Dan caught me trying to leave the converted office. She'd run to the closest person with a phone, called the cops and explained who she was and _where_ she was, and made her way back as soon as she could.

I felt like laughing when I realized I hadn't even been in captivity for two hours, and already it felt like a lifetime.

"You need to get out of here. I'll speak to the police and tell them everything. But you need to go; your car is where you left it," Danielle urged, hastily cutting through the last ropes around my ankles.

We both had so many questions, but with no time to waste I knew Danielle wouldn't get to hear the full truth from me, and I wouldn't get to ask why she decided to come back for me.

It was extremely difficult to stand up, let alone walk. My body was numb and despite the temporary pain block, I was still dizzy from evident blood loss and the oxygen deprivation. I had no idea how severe my injuries were – I was scared to even look in a mirror. But I was alive, and that was all I needed; I would make it back to Spencer no matter what it took out of me.

The thought of Spencer made me realize that I could do something small for Danielle. I stopped in my tracks and turned to face her. "I knew Sean. And this was for him. He loved you, and still does. He'd want you to know that."

I wasn't prepared for the tears or hug, completely engulfed into Danielle's arms as she sobbed against me. I reached out and gently patted her on the back, not used to this kind affection from strangers.

A soft grunt reminded me that there was no time left. I peeked over Danielle's shoulder and realized with disdain that Dan was already coming to.

The cops were close but not close enough for Danielle to be safe. I pulled away from her and urged her outside to take care of the problem inside.

I desperately wanted to kill him. But with Danielle's presence it was extremely hard to be the cold-hearted killer I was supposed to be.

I found his 9mm and flinched as the shot echoed loudly through the container. The graze on his side would keep him out until the cops got here, but wouldn't be severe enough to kill him.

"He's not dead, but you'll be fine until the police gets here. Take care of yourself, okay?"

Danielle nodded tearfully as I faced her outside, ensuring she was in good enough a condition to stay conscious until help arrived. I pressed the 9mm into her hands despite her protests. "I-I can't-"

"I know. Aim for his legs. Tell the cops it's his gun. You're going to be okay, Danielle. Thank you, for saving me."

I didn't wait for her to say anything else. With minimum strength left I had to limp back to my car in full speed and find a way out of the terminal before reinforcements arrived. It was after all, a high profile case. Kidnapping, murder, and the corrupted mayor of Los Angeles. All wrapped up into one converted shipping container in the Port of Long Beach.

"Thank you, Ashley Davies."

Her voice was soft as I put as much distance between us as fast as I possibly could.

It never occurred to me Danielle Miller had gotten my name.

* * *

 **Angel of Mercy - OneRepublic**


	55. Have a little faith in me

**A/N: Thank you all for the amazing reviews, it's always so refreshing to read about your thoughts and ideas to where this is headed.**

 **Puffpuffpass – CH54 :** **I'm not sure whether your question was based on the last chapter or the entire fic, but if you hold on a little longer (just about four more chapters) – a LOT of things will fall into place and make sense :) Thank you for reading and reviewing!**

 **TheDWall – CH54 : You are 100 percent correct, Ashley is in deep trouble, and this following chapter just attests to that. Ashley and Spencer's moment will come, I promise, of course not without drama and tears, but a happy ending is in sight :) Thank you so much for reading and reviewing!**

 **SON4LIFE – CH54 : I'm glad you liked the chapter! Ashley's escape might have been successful but she still has the journey back home and the awkwardness to face Spencer. Hope you enjoy this chapter, more to come soon! Thank you for reading and reviewing!**

 **GirlsOnly – CH54 : Thank you for the compliment :) Without wanting to reveal too much, remember that Dan is a man of great power – he's the (corrupted) Mayor and has an impressive amount of contacts – good and bad. So he knows people… As for Ashley, she feared that Dan would come after her as a ghost. Also, with Danielle right there she couldn't do it – somewhere along the line she's grown a conscience ;) Hope you enjoy this chapter, thanks for reading and reviewing!**

 **Anjela78 – CH54 : I hate to break it to you, but you might be disappointed in Kyla's actions in this chapter. Ashley will definitely make her way back to Spencer, and yes, her heart has definitely softened. Let's just hope Spencer can forgive her! Danielle heard Dan say Ashley's name, that's how she knew ;) Hope you enjoy this chapter! Have a great day and thanks for reading and reviewing!**

 **ToriDub – CH54 : I enjoyed reading that you were on the edge – it means I've done my job ;) There's a tiny bit of detail I have to hold back on how Dan knew Ashley's name, but keep in consideration that he's a corrupted Mayor who had a lot of contacts. And yes, Danielle did hear him say her name. Danielle's side of the story may or may not come out – it depends on the characters in this chapter (the one you're about to read) And no, I can say without hiding anything that Ashley didn't leave her rifle behind, she will most definitely still need it. Thought the killings were over? :P Hope you had a good Easter despite being at work. Thank you so much for reading and reviewing!**

 **SoNFan – CH54 : Thank you! I hope you enjoy this chapter as well, it's obviously not as intense, but quite a bit happens to set the pace for the next four chapters. Thank you so much for reading and reviewing!**

 **Southtrash – CH54 : I'm glad you found the chapter exciting, I tried hard to make it feel as real as possible ;) I'm also glad Ashley got out, and like you said, despite her injuries. Ashley: 1; Dan and his cronies: 0 Hope you enjoy this chapter, thank you so much for reading and reviewing!**

* * *

 **Glen**

 **Have a little faith in me**

As much as I didn't want to think about work, didn't want to think about my home at Division 9, didn't want to think about the loss we suffered there as a family, but the new information from Kyla had me somewhat excited to return to what I was good at.

While being in LA, it felt like it was the last good thing I had to hang on to. Even if I couldn't solve the case I so desperately wanted to.

But coming home to Mom and Dad, despite them being at work for long, odd hours, was one of those things that offered solace on a whole different level. It was difficult to be reminded of the loss in our family, the reminders all over the walls and scattered picture frames on coffee tables. It physically hurt my chest but at the same time it comforted me. We were raised well, we were raised to be a tight-knit family, we were raised with good moral values.

Thinking about Kyla and the discovery of her sister, the lifestyle she led, I couldn't help but feel grateful for what I had. Even if I didn't have everything the way _I_ wanted anymore.

"Glen? Sweetie, why are you up so early?"

Mom's day-shifts had her up and dressed already albeit somewhat earlier than necessary. I loved the fact that she still, after all these years of being teased for being a bad cook, made the effort to have breakfast ready for Dad by the time he got up. And Dad diligently swallowed every last burnt piece down with his famous home-brewed coffee. Their marriage worked, like clockwork. It was admirable.

"I'm used to early mornings – my day shift starts the same time as yours. I'm trying not to get lazy for when I go back." I nurtured my own mug filled with steamy coffee, warmth spreading through me as I cupped my hands around it.

Mom stopped rummaging through the fridge for a second, placing the raw eggs and other ingredients on the counter before sliding into a chair next to mine. "You know, it's okay to give yourself a bit of a break, sweetie. That's why you came down here, isn't it?"

I sighed and took a sip of my coffee, trying to find words to placate her. "I guess. I mean, Kyla's visit was unplanned and part of me just want to go and scope things out again, but… I don't know. I'm just feeling worn out from everything."

Her hand on my shoulder was enough to feel a kind of comfort I'd cherished from a young age. I may not always have been the model child in our family, but Mom's small gestures confirmed that I would always be loved. "Then take a break, honey. Everybody needs one every now and then."

Another heavy sigh escaped me. How I wished I could just escape it all. But no matter where I went, or even for how long, these unsolved cases would always be at the back of my mind. Especially the high profile ones – cases that I was at the brink of solving. "I can't. We're so close, Mom. Kyla's been a tremendous help – I could potentially close two cases at once."

Mom's pride didn't go unnoticed. I revelled in the feeling, my chest bursting with happiness at the way she looked at me – like I was achieving everything they ever wanted me to, even if I couldn't solve the one case we all wanted closure from.

"Is it one of those highly confidential cases?" Mom prodded casually, resuming her attempt at preparing breakfast.

"Well, yeah. A missing person case and what could be a serial killer case."

I didn't correct Mom when she assumed the two were linked a different way; the missing person a victim of the serial killer's. I wasn't sure how they would feel about Kyla being in their house if they had to find out her very own sister was a professional assassin and had been missing for eight years while on a killing spree. _Especially_ not after we lost who I used to call _'the brains'_ of our family in a similar way.

"Ah, Kyla! Just in time for coffee, would you like some?"

I turned in my chair and smiled widely at the short, dark-haired girl. Her hair was pointing all directions and her eyes were barely open, but a smile formed on her own face at the mention of coffee.

"Good morning," she greeted groggily. Slipping into Mom's vacated chair next to mine, her face still sported a smile. "I'd appreciate that, thank you so much, Mrs. Carlin."

"Please, call me Paula. Mrs. Carlin sounds so formal," Mom chuckled, sliding a steaming mug towards Kyla.

I watched Kyla close her eyes as she took the first sip of Dad's special brew, chuckling when she made a sound of appreciation. "This coffee is amazing! What brand is it? I _have_ to get my hands on it when I get back to New York."

"It's my Dad's brew. He sources beans from all over the world and have a knack for blending it to perfection. You'd have to persuade him to give you some," I laughed, knowing Dad _would_ probably supply Kyla with a small container of his special blend. He seemed as enthralled by Kyla as I was.

And it wasn't just because she was doing something so incredibly difficult yet amazing; I felt myself somewhat drawn to her. She was sweet yet head-strong, short and small but built to perfection – I knew the yoga probably helped shape what I could only imagine was a very sexy body underneath those pajamas.

I found myself blushing at the naughty thoughts of my hands trailing love notes all over her naked curves. It was obvious that it's been a long, _long_ time since I had someone in my life.

I cleared my throat, determined to erase the lewd thoughts from my mind – also to save myself from an unwanted embarrassment – and glanced at Kyla with a sly wink. "Avoid the edges of the eggs, and the toast altogether – unless you enjoy burnt food."

Kyla giggled and I forced my attention away from her cuteness. However stunning I thought she was, I wasn't guaranteed that she'd still want to be in contact with _me_ once we arrested her sister. I personally wanted to slap cuffs around Ashley Davies's wrists, showing the Feds and Dan Miller _especially_ , how things were done at 9th Division.

It was a tricky situation; I wanted to be the hero in _both_ cases. And regardless of Kyla's resolve of handing Ashley over, surely she'd feel some kind of remorse. Eight years was a long time to invest in someone and for that eight years she believed Ashley was a good person. It would have been so much better if Ashley _wasn't_ the assassin we were looking for. But Kyla had evidence – evidence I still had to see – and knowing her I knew there was no mistake.

Ashley Davies killed Dan Miller's daughter.

* * *

We remained in the comfort of my parents' house long after they left for work. I wanted to give Kyla space and let her come to me in her own time with the photographs. Once she did, there was a lot to be done, and no chance of turning back. And while I knew a more calming setting like the beach would have been easier on her, I couldn't trust any location where there weren't four walls around us. The sensitivity of this case, and Kyla's safety, was at risk in public places.

It was just before 8AM when the meaningless infomercials on TV came to an abrupt halt, interrupted by a repeat of breaking news surrounding a chaotic crime scene at the Port of Long Beach last night. It didn't really peak my interest, since it was way out of 9th Division's jurisdiction, but when I recognized Danielle Miller and then a severely injured Dan Miller, my thumb increased the volume to such a level that it was impossible to miss a single word from the reporters.

While it was dark out, probably after 9PM, the camera operators panned to reveal the entire shipping container terminal lit up by flashing red-and-blue police lights, that of several ambulances, and numerous overhead lighting from the terminals itself. It looked like a scene off a movie set, and Kyla, who plopped down next to me with an envelope in her hand, raised her brows questioningly.

"Don't you get enough action at the station? What movie is this?"

I found it difficult to tear my attention away from the screen, or even to laugh at the irony. Because it was anything _but_ funny. "This is the movie where they found Danielle Miller – a close friend's wife who'd been missing for almost a week, and a severely injured Dan Miller. _Mayor_ Dan Miller."

Kyla's gasp only registered faintly. Both our eyes were glued to the drama unfolding on TV.

 _"It has been confirmed that John Paxton, Mayor Miller's second-in-charge and a well known attorney for Polit-Enterprises, has sadly succumbed to his injuries. Two other males, also victims of gunshot wounds to their foreheads, have yet to be identified. While the police are thoroughly investigating the motive and what exactly happened, we have confirmation from a Federal Agent that the modus operandi are linked to an open case they are already investigating. High-spec military bullet casings were found on the scene indicating that this tragic event was a botched attempt from a professional marksman. I'm Kathy Reeves, reporting live for News-Direct, Long Beach, CA."_

"It was her," Kyla breathed out, her voice shaky. I dared to look at her, my heart breaking to see the look of defeat on her pale face. Her hands shook violently, clutching tightly to the envelope confirming we had our perpetrator. I wanted so badly to grab it from her and rush to LA, to catch Ashley while she was still in California, but Kyla's evident shock and disbelief stopped me. Her eyes were still on the TV, concentrating hard on what the reporters were saying.

I followed her gaze and felt a pang in my heart as I regarded a visibly shaken-up Danielle Miller in the background while police interrogated her. I went to school with her deceased husband. We were such close friends, they were _family friends_ , and I always appreciated Danielle's warm personality and definitely her delicious food.

"Here," Kyla sobbed, throwing the envelope at me. Tears were spilling down her cheeks, smearing the freshly applied make-up. "We need to go to LA and find her. She _has_ to pay for this. I don't care if she rots in jail or if they execute her."

I wanted to soften the blow, to comfort Kyla and find a way to tell her that there was still hope – it would take a _miracle_ – but even I was convinced that this was purely Ashley Davies's doing. It didn't mean that I _wanted_ it to be her.

I glanced down at the envelope, holding my breath as I pulled out the photographs.

It was clear as black and white. Ashley Davies was behind the wheel of that Dodge, the same car stolen from the rental car agency, the same car that was presumed the getaway car after the massacre in the parking lot. Holding up the second photograph, I recognized it immediately. It was the very same picture we'd blown up to letter size to stick on the whiteboard dedicated solely to Ashley Davies : missing person.

Kyla was crying as if she'd been holding onto the hope that I was going to prove her wrong; as if I'd tell her that there was no way the girl in the photographs was the same person. The anger and defeat was concealed by a sadness I could certainly relate to.

* * *

It took another hour to get Kyla to calm down, our attention mostly on news updates and the uncertainty that hung in the air. I'd provided her with some sweetened water to get over the shock several times, even a chocolate bar I stole from Mom's secret stash, and finally, a quarter glass of whiskey. She refused at first, admitting her drinking spree right after she found out about Ashley, but eventually took a small sip, probably to swallow down everything else I had tried to feed her.

Despite my great dislike towards Dan Miller, I really hoped that he would survive his injuries – if only to reduce Kyla's hatred towards Ashley a _smidge_. There was no news about Danielle's recount of what had happened, and that was the part I really wanted to hear. It would help a great deal to put the pieces together and put Ashley at the scene.

Regardless, she was now officially the prime suspect of Sasha Miller's murder. I was sure I didn't need to sugarcoat it for Kyla – we both knew there were many more.

"What happens now?"

She sounded so unsure, as if she was ashamed by her choice to betray Ashley.

I took a deep breath, running the details through my head. "First of all, I need to speak to my partner and my Captain. They'll most likely put out an APB, which means an all point bulletin – it's used between stations to share information about significantly wanted persons. I need to get back to LA, I need to get to the action immediately. We need to find her before people get trigger happy. I can guarantee you the Feds will put a bounty on her head."

Kyla didn't react well to the news. I was surprised that in spite of it all, there was the slightest bit of remorse still lingering in her eyes. "I need to go with you! Please, take me with you!"

This was above protocol – but I also had to take Kyla's safety in consideration. "If you come with me, they're going to put you in Witness Protection, you know what that means, right?"

Kyla scoffed. "Why would they even do that? Nobody knows that I know!"

"How do you know that Ashley doesn't know who you are?" I countered. "Besides, Kyla, as much as Ashley is involved in the killings, there's also a lot of politics involved. You're not safe anymore. Definitely not in LA. I'll talk to my parents – you can stay here for as long as you need, but there's no way I'm putting you at risk."

Kyla Woods was feisty and adamant, unfairly and unprofessionally turning me on. "Then I'm going on my own. I'll catch a flight on my own – you don't even have to know the details. Glen, I have to see her. I just… I have to know why."

My heart, as hardened as it was due to horrific things I've been subjected to in my job, ached terribly for this mourning woman. I couldn't ever make such a promise to her, not with Ashley on the run. She might have thought she was getting away with it, but in a few hours' time, every cop in the US would be on the lookout for her.

"Chances are that you won't, Kyla. She's not getting out of this alive." It was the cold, hard truth, but I had to give it to her as it was.

"Take me with you, or I go to the Feds with this," she threatened, grabbing the photos from me. "And kiss your career good-bye."

" _Fuck_ , Kyla." I hated her in this moment, but my wound up hormones thought otherwise.

* * *

 **Have a little faith in me – John Hiatt**


	56. Set fire to the third bar

**A/N: Dear AMAZING readers; I apologize for the long hiatus on this fic, unfortunately things** ** _way_** **out of my control has been the reason for delay in updates. I know I've given some preference over** ** _Where We Began_** **but it's something that had to get out. It doesn't mean that I've abandoned Ghost though, it's been haunting me – no pun intended ;P – to not be able to get more chapters out. There's a huge chapter coming up and it's so very close, so please don't give up on me or the fic! Thanks to everyone who's still following the story :) You have all been on this great journey with me and it means the world for all the support!**

* * *

 **Southrash – CH55 : I couldn't resist making Glen fall for Kyla a little – her side story has been so much fun for me to write and has been so vital to this entire fic; so yeah – typical guy! Thank you so much for reading and reviewing! Hope you enjoy this chapter!**

 **Anjela78 – CH55 : You read it right, Glen does have romantic feelings for Kyla – or at least a little crush ;) I absolutely love the way you put it that Kyla might feel sorrowful if she found out the full truth behind Ashley's actions – after all, Ashley still doesn't have any idea who she really is and I agree, it wasn't her fault that her memory got wiped. But maybe later on there'll be some understanding and hopefully forgiveness, it's not long anymore before I sadly finish this humongous story of mine. Thank you so much for reading and reviewing, hope you enjoy the update! Have a great day!**

 **K1989 – CH55 : Now I feel even worse, everyone's been getting so excited with all the loose ends coming together and the long time I've been away doesn't help! But, progress is here, I promise! The next few chapters will be building up to a big reveal of sorts, so please hold on in there! Thank you so much for reading and reviewing!**

 **SoNFan – CH55 : Yes, your feelers are one hundred percent correct! Intensity is here, and this is just the start of it! Thank you so much for reading and reviewing, hope you enjoy this update!**

 **BlueEyes – CH55 : Always such a nice feeling to see new readers/reviewers; welcome to the craziness of this project of mine! I know it's been terribly long, but like Ashley, I had to tend to "injuries" too. But for her, we start where we left off – she's still in bad shape and I'm not ;) Hope this chapter alleviates the suspense a little, but of course, only until the end. But I won't leave it for two months again ;) Thank you so much for reading and reviewing! Enjoy ;)**

 **K1989 – CH55 : Aaaaw, it really warms my heart and excites me like crazy to know there's an epic fanbase of this fic. Thank you so much for checking in!**

 **ToriDub – PM : I want to mention that I appreciate all the encouragement and all the clues you're testing out to try and solve the mystery; you've been a fantastic supporter of this fic! Hope you enjoy the update!**

* * *

 **Ashley**

 **Set fire to the third bar**

I never thought the low humming of the sleek black Camaro could ever bring so much comfort. I leaned back into the driver's seat, closing my eyes for a moment to gather myself.

Dan Miller had caused some serious damage; it was extremely painful to breathe with the gaping hole in my lower abdomen. Blood was still seeping out, though not gushing, but enough to make me feel lightheaded. It took a lot of convincing to inspect my face in the small rear-view mirror, the audible gasp hurting my own ears.

In the far distance an entire spectrum of colors flew by the narrow opening of the rows of shipping containers. My own car lights were off so there was no way anyone would see me unless they chose to drive down this row and came close enough for their headlights to illuminate my car. I was still safe, but not for long. The cops would eventually contain the crime scene and then spread out to start looking for Dan's attacker.

I had to act swiftly. With the medical supplies originally intended for Danielle, I managed to plug my gunshot wound and hastily wrapped a bandage around it to keep as much pressure on the wound. My wrists and face and everything else that hurt would have to wait; with the worst blood stains cleaned off to avoid drawing immediate attention, I knew I could easily put a lot of distance between the container terminal and myself before I'd have to stop and tend to my injuries.

Once I was sure that enough police cars had passed, I put the Camaro in reverse and slowly backed out of the narrow row, headlights still off. It was tricky to be inconspicuous with the rumbling of the Camaro's supercharged engine, but having parked three rows away from the drama helped to pull out into the open without being noticed.

It was a small miracle that no other cop cars passed me on my way out, and I almost cried in relief when I finally parked outside the motel a few minutes later. Even while being so close to the port, not escaping its noise pollution, the wailing of more emergency services towards the crime scene could be heard clearly. It was only when I heard the chopping sound of helicopters that I truly realized how lucky I was to get out. And how stupid I was for never thinking about how catastrophic that could have gone down for me.

There weren't a lot of items left at the motel – mostly just a bag with clothing and some loose items. Changing into normal clothes was painful but a necessity. Any person who saw me on the street right now would immediately be suspicious. I looked like a train wreck. The discarded clothes were torn and bloodstained.

I took care to ensure no piece of clothing or bloodied bandages were left behind; I didn't want to give the cops a reason to look for DNA in this run down motel room.

Only when I was finally back on the road, already passing through the heart of Los Angeles on the I-5, did my hands relax its tight grip on the steering wheel and I allowed a slight smile to curve my lips.

 _Spencer, I'm coming home._

* * *

I only made it to a small town just outside Bakersfield, probably not even a hundred and fifty miles away from Long Beach, until I couldn't anymore.

I was exhausted and dizzy and in a fair amount of pain.

As much as I wanted to get to Spencer, I knew I'd never get back to San Francisco alive if I continued on like this. My body needed rest. I needed to properly inspect the damage of the gunshot wound and see what else looked bad where I felt most pain. The two hours away from the action had dulled the adrenalin rush completely – leaving me in discomfort and agonizing periods of misery as spasms and throbbing set in.

It was frustrating and hard, _so hard_ , to have these obstacles in the way of getting back to the girl I left behind. All I wanted to do was drive through the night and be back in her arms in the morning. All I wanted to do was tell Spencer that I loved her too. And then I wanted to close my eyes and listen to her voice as she said it to me again, making my heart flutter and beat honestly for the first time since this entire ordeal started.

"One hundred and eight dollars."

I wasn't even going to complain to pay so much for the motel room. The fewer questions asked, the easier it would be to disappear first thing in the morning. The lady behind the glass counter wasn't even looking at me – her attention captured by whatever was flashing on her small TV.

I carefully counted out the exact amount and slid it underneath the glass, flinching internally at the way my hands looked. Despite covering up my wrists with a long sleeve, the proof was still there that my limbs had gone through some trauma. I pulled them back from the counter quickly, hoping the cashier would keep her eyes glued to that TV screen.

"Room nine, first floor to the left. Be out by ten AM."

The keycard appeared and that was it; I could tend to my wounds and get some rest in peace.

I thanked the lady softly and with a careful lift of my bags I made my way into the spacious room, relieved that it was mostly quiet in the area I stopped over. Not only would it help me get some decent rest, but if for any reason I had to be alert, I'd hear footsteps or movement outside the room easily.

The high fare made sense the moment I opened up the mini fridge; stocked fully with bottled water and a pint of fresh milk. Off to the side there was a counter with complimentary bread rolls and what looked like jam, coffee pods, and an espresso maker.

It was enough to keep me going; the fresh bread reminding me that I hadn't eaten in a long time and that the carbs and sugar would do me some good. I definitely needed some sugar for energy considering the amount of blood I'd lost.

It was difficult to focus on my injuries when all I could think of was Spencer. I let the shower spray wash off the remains of the terrifying experience just hours ago; closing my eyes to savor the image of the beautiful blonde I couldn't wait to go home to.

I had no idea how I was going to explain everything to her; hurting her the way I did, looking the way I did. I had to ask for forgiveness somehow, and with that she'd expect an explanation. How was I even going to tell her about the ghosts? Was I allowed to, could I, and would she believe me?

And then I still had to figure out how I could keep Kelly from finding out who Spencer was. Despite the condition I was in and the delusion that things would go back to the way it was between myself and Spencer, there was still Kelly. The terrifying ghost who threatened to hurt the girl I cared so deeply about.

But all I could really concentrate on was just telling Spencer how I felt. To set her at ease, to glue back her heart I'd so ruthlessly ripped to pieces.

* * *

Four hours wasn't nearly enough rest, but as dawn threatened to make its appearance, so did the agonizing pain and terrifying fear that I'd be found out and get locked up.

I groaned out loud as I tried to sit up, my body refusing to act on the signals my brain sent to my limbs to get it moving. The phantom feeling of a magnet pulling my organs to one side still persisted, and a sickening sweet smell filled my nostrils despite a suspicious broken nose.

Panic started rising in my chest as only one eye offered me vision of the darkened room, the entire left side of my face paralyzed by a dull throb.

Things were not looking good. Not only did I feel incapable to get on the move, I probably also _looked_ the part. If anybody had to take a look at me alarm bells would go off immediately.

There was really just one option for me – get on the road and push through all the way back to my condo. I was undecided whether to stay on the interstate highway to avoid unnecessary stopping and possibly put my foot on it wherever I could, but the fear lingered that if word got out, cops would be all over the main roads. My car stood out, and my appearance most definitely stood out. I'd be stopped at the very first roadblock.

It appealed less to take winding back roads, the condition I was in not really allowing for any time longer than the five hours it would have taken me on the I-5. But it would get me there, maybe not in good health, but at least long enough to find Spencer and tell her I loved her. That was all that mattered now. I didn't care about the ghosts, or the cops, or anything else than Spencer.

It was with that resolve that I finally managed to pull myself together and out of bed.

The light in the bathroom hurt my good eye and I was suddenly thankful to have limited vision.

The entire left hand side of my face was busted; swollen and bruised beyond recognition. The skin covering my cheekbone was split open, and despite my grogginess, I could clearly see where the bone was fractured.

This was not something I could cover up with make-up; I dared to touch the skin lightly below the damage and even there it was unbearably painful. Painkillers were out of the question since I had to be awake and aware to drive.

My face was the worst of my worries since it was a dead give-away, but when I finally took time to study my wrists I realized I just narrowly escaped death in the hands of Dan Miller.

The palms of my hands were slightly swollen and the top parts were covered in a mixture of deep scuff marks and bruises. At some places the sisal rope had actually _cut_ into my wrists, leaving me with lacerations that would probably scar terribly afterward. Cleaning my wounds with hot water had helped last night, but I needed to ensure it wouldn't get infected. I cringed at the thought of dirty rope blending into open flesh.

Apart from heavy bruising all over my body, these were the worst obvious injuries. But while they could be treated though not hidden, the wound I was most worried about was where Dan had shot me.

Judging by the way I could still stand and walk and _breathe_ , I knew he didn't hit any major organs. I haven't gone into shock so I hoped that I haven't lost too much blood. But the outer assessment was as much as I could do; I had no idea where that bullet was inside my body, whether it was stuck or splattered into my blood and possibly penetrating all my organs without me knowing, killing me slowly with every single breath I took.

It all came down to time. I knew I didn't have much of it. Sooner or later either the cops were going to find me or my body was going to cave in on me, and I much preferred it to be the latter, hopefully after I've told Spencer what I needed to.

So I quickly took another hot shower to ease the strain on my tired muscles and to foolishly convince myself that it was also washing away the dirt that had penetrated my skin, and set to the task of re-wrapping my stomach as best as I could to sustain me for the long drive home. I found some ointments in the kit I'd bought to treat Danielle, cleaning out the flesh wounds on my wrists despite the terrible sting. I had no choice but to wrap both wrists and to try and rub some ointment onto my cheek, but when tears started blinding me, I knew poking around would just aggravate the pain later.

It would have to do, and I took a second to stare at myself, incredibly saddened that I looked so battered. This was going to leave horrific scars, and if by miracle I managed to survive this, the scars would never let me forget of the past I was trying to leave behind.

I wasn't only a monster on the inside anymore, it was now showing on the outside too.

Spencer would never look at me the same way again.

I swallowed hard, forcing my mind into blankness to protect myself from the terrible ache that lingered in my heart.

If I carried on like this, I'd never make it back.

* * *

I found myself just outside San Lucas four painstaking hours later, a combination of terrible roads, road construction work to _fix_ the terrible roads, and slow driving due to agonizing pain and fever keeping me on this journey much longer than I liked.

A run-down gas station and diner seemed like the appropriate place for me to stop and force some food down, and not knowing where I'd have to take detours to avoid further delays, I knew I had to try and keep the Camaro's tank full.

I drew attention immediately; the door creaking as I pushed it open to find the old waitress behind the counter staring at me in bewilderment. Her unmoving reaction caused three bulky truck drivers to turn around in their seats, coffee mugs frozen halfway as they took in the sight of me.

I had to think fast. With a fake southern accent I chuckled and grinned sardonically, no matter how much it hurt. "Last time he touched _this_ pretty face. Bet his balls look worse."

The truckers laughed and the waitress let out a long relieved breath. "Good for you, missy. Now what can I get ya? Sit down in that booth and get yourself comfortable."

The moment was instantly forgotten, and I let out my own relieved sigh, following orders not to attract any further attention. My body ached to be stretched but at the same time I was so exhausted it was making me lethargic.

A cup of coffee slid right in front of me and as I looked up the old lady smiled down on me. "This one's on the house. You look like you could use some food. Though I'm not too sure how that pretty jaw of yours would chew. I hope you reported him, missy."

I hated myself for the lie, but it was the only way I could get through this. Surely by now there were news reports about last night's incident. Dan Miller would definitely not hesitate to out me to the world. So if white lies got me back to Spencer, it was what I had to do.

"I definitely did, Ma'am. Right after aiming straight where it hurts." I made a show of it to concentrate on the one-paged menu, not wanting them to memorize my face too much.

There weren't a lot of options; the usual bacon and eggs or the favorite pancakes. I didn't want any other place's pancakes to ruin it for me; Angel's Diner would forever hold my heart. So I chose the English breakfast, satisfied that the protein and carbs would once again, help me to keep on going.

I saturated my coffee with sugar to help give me an energy boost, and purchased additional bottled water to keep myself hydrated on the road.

I was nervous, but with the diner incident smoothed over by the simple lie so easily, it had me relax my shoulders as I slid back into the Camaro just after ten AM.

The engine roared to life, awaking the butterflies in my stomach, but just several minutes into my journey, the butterflies had morphed into torturous dragons, setting alight every organ in my being.

Something was happening where that bullet had penetrated, and by the shake of my hands and cold sweat aching in my bones despite the summer heat, I knew I was in deep trouble.

The twenty minute drive to King City was a good test of my perseverance and strength – which was soon crumbling to _zero_ ability. I was close to tears; not only because of the pain, but also desperation to just get home. If I've driven through the night, I'd already have been in Spencer's arms by now.

As much as I just wanted to pull into the hospital parking lot, I found myself pulling into Broadway Creek instead, stopping at the first decent-looking motel I could see.

I didn't like that it looked so _empty_ , but I'd much rather have _that_ than people bustling all around me.

The cashier was uninterested just like the lady back in Bakersfield. Hardly looking up from her cops and robbers action movie, I slid the exact amount through the security glass and eagerly accepted the keycard. I wasn't planning on staying overnight, but a motel room was the only safe place I could risk taking off the bandages to see what was going on.

The cold sweat froze with everything else in my body as I opened the dingy door of my room; the old TV box blasting the same cops and robbers action movie I saw in reception. Except in _this_ movie, the set was real, the cops were _very_ real, and a photograph of myself was staring right back at me, identifying me as the robber.

* * *

 **Set fire to the third bar – Snow Patrol**


	57. The Scientist

**A/N: So very close! Enjoy!**

* * *

 **Southtrash – CH56 : I agree, Ashley is in really bad shape. But it won't stop her just yet ;) Thank you for reading and reviewing!**

 **K1989 – CH56 : Thank you for the well-wishes! Yes, that reunion is now a mere chapter away – I don't even feel bad for saying it, because it was bound to happen ;) But that's all I'm saying, the rest, well, the story is not over just quite yet! Enjoy and thank you for reading and reviewing!**

 **ToriDub – CH56 : It's close, I promise! I don't want to say much since this chapter will reveal a bit of a plot twist, but my lips are sealed to where this is all headed. Bohahahaha! Thank you for reading and reviewing and enjoy!**

 **SoNFan – CH56 : Hope it wasn't too long of a wait! ;) Thank you for reading and reviewing; hope you enjoy this one!**

 **GirlsOnly – CH56 : You should know by now almost every chapter of this fic ends with a cliffhanger! It probably won't change until the very last one, and hopefully** ** _that_** **one I'd be able to finish off with an end that won't have readers begging for more lol. Anyway, here's another update, which does cover a smidge how Ashley reacts to the news, but I don't think she had enough time to let it all sink in yet. Thank you for reading and reviewing, and enjoy!**

* * *

 **The next chapter will follow in the next couple of days; I won't leave you hanging (for too long) ;P**

* * *

 **Ashley**

 **The Scientist**

Shutting the door behind me was the only action my body could perform; more out of fear that someone might see me and see the news and make the connection instead of just the privacy I'd forgotten I needed.

A cold chill spread through me, paralyzing my limbs in the process as it ran down my spine and ended in my toes.

I was too numbed to reach for the TV or find the remote to at least turn the volume down; perhaps if I left it as it was, no-one would suspect that the very person all the news channels were reporting about was in this room, listening to it so loudly.

 _"While Californian Mayor Dan Miller was able to identify the perpetrator, reports are coming in that a detective from 9th Division in Los Angeles who has been assisting the FBI with the Mayor's daughter's murder, has been able to tie the link. Allegedly photographs have emerged putting Ashley Davies at the scene, and Mayor Miller confirmed that Ms Davies threatened to kill him like his daughter at the night of his attack."_

A nauseating feeling settled within me, and suddenly I regretted _not_ killing the lying asshole. Where was Danielle Miller in all of this? Why did she not make a proper statement? Did they not know that _Dan Miller_ ordered her kidnapping?

 _"Mayor Miller is currently in critical condition, suffering a gunshot wound to his chest and right foot, and also a concussion after being knocked out by Ms Davies."_

I wanted to hope _so_ desperately that Dan Miller would die and make the world a happier place, but it would be all on me. Not that it really mattered – I was going to go down for Sasha Miller's murder anyway, and who knew how long it would take before they found out about all the others.

 _"An international hotline has been set up so if anyone has any information regarding Ms Davies' whereabouts, please call the number below or report to your nearest police station. Ms Davies is considered a highly specialized marksman, consider her armed and very dangerous."_

"Fuck," I sighed, finally over the initial trauma. It allowed me to move over to the bed and plop down, my legs buckling from fear and shock. The movement had me flinch and I remembered I had my own gunshot wound to tend to, not that I knew what I could do, but if I wanted to survive and at least _try_ to make it back to Spencer, then I had to risk opening the bandages.

The thought of Spencer had my muscles lock up again, that same cold feeling running through me as I realized she would find out who I was before I could tell her anything. She was going to realize I was a terrible person, and she'd never allow me to tell her now that I loved her. She'd never say those same words back to me either. She would see me like the world saw me now; dangerous. A _monster_.

I didn't know what I was expecting anyway, all of this was bound to catch up with me at _some_ point. With no backing from the Agency, with no family to turn to, with no memory of _how I got here in the first place_ , I was completely on my own. Not even the ghosts were here to offer me their pitying looks. I wondered if Sasha was watching the news, and if they were happy that justice was going to be served.

 _"Other victims identified in the massacre at the Port of Long Beach last night was Patrick Cross and Will Evans, and Mayor Miller's second-in-charge, John Paxton. All three victims were found with gunshot wounds to the forehead with what has now been identified as an A7 Military Sniper Rifle, a modus operandi that could possibly place Davies at the scene of dozens of other killings."_

I grabbed for the remote on the nightstand and pressed the mute button with a huff. I didn't need to be reminded about all the people's lives I've taken. What I _would_ have liked to be reminded of was who hired me to do those jobs, and how the Agency had found me to start with. Why wasn't anybody looking into that yet? If the whole world was now involved in this case, weren't they supposed to follow other similar type killings too? I wasn't the only person working for the Agency – _everybody_ had to do headshots.

For the second time I wished my ghosts were here. It was a bitter irony and I was uncomfortable with the mere thought of it, but now _I_ had some questions that needed some answering. Especially to Aiden, who worked at the Agency with me.

"Where the fuck _are_ you guys?" I mumbled, not sure if I _did_ want them with me. Maybe Madison – I could deal with her.

I carefully shrugged off the black jacket I'd been wearing to ensure no blood stains could accidentally give me away, and after removing my shirt and then the bandage I'd wrapped around my torso, I became increasingly dizzy at the sickening sweet smell of blood. A _lot_ of it.

I didn't feel that agonizing burning pain anymore, but whatever was happening was definitely a problem. I wouldn't get far if I didn't have a look at it now, and considering my situation of being an _outed_ convict, being on the run with the type of injuries I had was going to prove extremely difficult.

I was remarkably squeamish to inspect the wound thoroughly, not too sure if I could stomach seeing my own intestines. With my hand over the balled up bandage I'd pressed into the wound, completely soaked with fresh blood, I got up slowly and moved carefully over to the full-length mirror stuck onto the bathroom door. I held my breath, jaw locked and teeth grinding as I balled my hand into a fist, grabbing tightly onto the bandage. Part of me just wanted to rip it out but considering the bleeding, I'd probably faint and die on the spot.

It was agonizing, fearing death and fearing being caught at the same time. I had little time, and while I had no idea what would happen when, or _if_ I ever got back to the Bay Area, my resolve was still to get back to Spencer. Without her, there was no point in running. No point in staying alive.

I had to push it very far back into my mind that I probably feared her reaction to me the most. The _only_ way for me to get back home was to ignore the feeling of rejection and hate I'd most likely encounter.

 _She loves you. She told you._

My hand shook as I forced it to pull the bandage away from the open wound, utterly surprised that the hole wasn't as big as I initially thought. I could barely stick a finger in there. I prodded gently around the rim of the wound, my skin tender to the touch. But it didn't hurt – _nothing_ hurt. It was just bleeding – and not gushing anymore either.

I didn't like that I couldn't find the problem – it meant there wouldn't be a solution, and encountering a similar experience I did when I left San Lucas could be lethal.

There was really only one thing I could do; re-wrap the bandage and get moving. Perhaps it was the way I sat in the car, perhaps the inner bandage pressed against the bullet, or moved it – the possibilities were endless.

I grabbed towards the bag of dwindling medical supplies, slightly alarmed at the fact that there were only two bandages left. I took one, cut it in half, and after balling it tightly, doused it with the _Chlorhexidine Gluconate_ solution and gently pressed it into the wound as hard as I could.

I couldn't help but hiss at the sting, and also couldn't help but scold myself for not dousing the previous bandage in disinfectant before wrapping my torso. The fact that it stung was slightly relieving; it meant nothing in there had died quite yet. It also meant possible bacteria was all still alive and I shuddered at the thought.

I finished up wrapping my torso with the same bandage I'd used previously and flinched at the idea of the balled up, blood soaked bandaged having to tag along to avoid leaving visible evidence that I was there. I wasn't sure why but the smell kept me swallowing back bile constantly.

With one last glance at the TV, news reports about the trail I'd left still on repeat, I carefully made my way back outside, eager to disappear with the sparse traffic on route 101, ready to go back home.

* * *

The wail of a police siren had me freeze up for the umpteenth time. I hastily pushed my bags into the trunk of the Camaro and slammed the lid down with a loud thud, apologizing to the black beauty all the way to the driver door.

Wherever the cops were, I didn't want them to find me outside the car. I was a little better protected _inside_ , and still had a chance at getting away. Patrol cars had nothing on the horsepower of my sleek Camaro.

I was about to turn the ignition, ready for the inevitable chase, but as I looked up through the windshield, I couldn't help but laugh at myself. And my utter stupidity.

And while it was no laughing matter – I should have realized my attentiveness was diminishing rapidly – the relief that I _wasn't_ being chased, _yet_ , I couldn't help the giggles. That too should have been a sign that I was slowly starting to lose it.

I'd chosen to park at the motel right next door to _Highway Patrol_ ; the siren belonging to a squad car pulling into their lot. I watched two officers getting out, smiles on their faces as they seemed to be joking around. One carried about eight coffee cups on a tray while the other left his _walkie_ on the roof of the car and opted to take the box of pastries into the office instead.

Two other patrol cars were parked in the lot, and considering so many small towns were situated close to each other, I wouldn't count on a big squad for King City. I wondered if the news had reached them at all, and if anybody had recognized me, or reported me.

The only place I really had to worry about was the truck stop outside San Lucas, but I couldn't see any TV's in the small diner. Before that, the only people who'd paid attention was back in LA and Long Beach, when I'd purchased my surveillance equipment. Surely they had my face captured on camera while I was buying the items I needed.

I wished for a second time that I hadn't slept over in Bakersfield; driving through the night would have gotten me back to safety before people started looking for me.

I would certainly not be in this situation right now, not even able to trust my own judgment in broad daylight.

The forgotten _walkie_ was a temptation; I'd be able to catch some conversation and establish whether my route of choice had any road blocks or if anyone suspected me heading to San Francisco.

But if getting caught while trying to steal it, I'd never forgive myself. Then I _deserved_ to go down for being a total moron.

With a heavy sigh I allowed the Camaro to charm me with the roar of its engine as I turned the ignition, and pulled out of the parking lot of the motel, hoping that people in small maize town of King City wouldn't find it suspicious that a black muscle car was driving through.

* * *

I made it smoothly through Greenfield, all the way up to Salinas without any trouble in an hour. I almost allowed myself to smile, excitement coursing through my veins at the thought that I'd be home in under three hours. The further I headed up north, the more I could feel the positive change in the air. I could almost taste the salt of the sea in the air. I could smell it; the dirty smog of LA long forgotten. It smelled like freedom.

The only thing I could think about was Spencer; her pretty smile and those mesmerizing blue eyes, her soft heart, her soft –always cold– _hands_ , her voice, oh, how I missed her voice.

And I allowed myself that. I _allowed_ myself to think about her, to think about the only reason I was still hanging on, trying to make my way back, trying to find a way to go back to where we started.

The high didn't last long, however. The smile fell off my face immediately as blue and red lights flickered far in the distance right before the end of more maize fields leading me into Prunedale.

There wasn't a lot of time to make a calculated decision; I had to act casual and took the first exit lane without seeming spooked. It would direct me into the town but I had no idea where I'd end up; I certainly had no desire to pull in next to Highway Patrol again.

I passed countless auto body shops and car lots, and for a fleeting moment I considered trading the Camaro for something less obvious, but it would be a dead giveaway. Until someone identified my face, I could safely make it as far up north without being caught. The less the police knew about my location or a general idea where I was headed, the easier it would be to dodge the road blocks.

I had a slight view of Route 101 as I headed into town, and my shoulders tensed at the realization that it was a road block up ahead. Both lanes were closed and there was an abundance of police officers – not only highway patrol.

I needed to get up to date with the latest news, with what they've come up with and if there was any indication of where they _thought_ I was. The stop outside San Lucas was a bad idea.

I've been coming to regret _all_ my decisions since I left Long Beach.

And yet, I knew I needed to stop again. Keeping up with what the police knew was the only way I could prepare myself; which route to take next, whether the Camaro was a risk, whether I've been identified. The urge to know had me pull into another motel; this time I parked the car behind the building, away from passersby. I didn't care that it wasn't even in allocated parking. I had to try and be attentive, I had to try and channel my sniper skills for one last time. It's what's kept me alive for so long.

I wasn't so lucky with the cashier this time; the young man looked up from his phone the moment I stepped into the small reception area, his face wary as he took in the gash and my terrifying looking fractured cheekbone sticking out from it. I couldn't see a TV anywhere, but he had a phone – he could have read the news, heard it at home; if he wasn't freaked out by my face then his reaction was because it was _me_. Ashley Davies. Wanted for murder.

"A-Are… are you okay?" He swallowed visibly, trying to clear the lump from his throat.

I sighed, praying that he was just shaken about my appearance. "Yeah it's healing, thank goodness. Do you have any rooms available?" I kept my voice steady, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible. "Just for one night. Gotta make it back to LA in the morning, y'know?"

Just in case.

"Sure, uhm, it's sixty dollars."

I cleared my throat and reached into my pocket, separating a single hundred from the small roll I kept for emergencies, and while pulling it out I grasped the sleeve of my jacket with my middle and pinky-fingers, hoping the cashier wouldn't pay too much attention to my battered hands.

But the shell-shocked teenager's eyes followed my every move, his brows raising slightly at the bruises on the top of my hand.

I waved the bill in front of him, getting antsy about the attention.

"Sorry." He blushed and took the hundred, ringing up the till and handing me change with a keycard. "It's room five, on the bottom floor. You need to vacate by ten AM."

"Thank you." I offered him a genuine, soft smile, hoping it would set his nerves at ease. Whatever had him so spooked, I didn't want him to see the monster I really was.

* * *

I set my bags down in the cheap room, thankful that there was a TV in it to start with. The place was terrible, there was a stale stench from the AC running on full blast, the bedding sheets looked unsanitary, and the bathroom tiles were all yellowed from either age or smoke.

I refused to open up my wound to disinfect it again, scared of what I'd pick up in here.

All I wanted to do was catch up with the news anyway; then I'd be on my way again.

There wasn't a remote, so I had to switch on the TV via its built-in panel, and adjust the volume accordingly before I gingerly sat down on the unhealthy bed.

There were still re-runs of the reports I'd seen earlier; a recap of what had happened last night, helicopter footage covering the container terminal as they lit up the area from the sky.

I watched with revolt as they lifted Dan Miller into an ambulance, and soon after, Danielle Miller into another. It still angered me that she hadn't said anything; why wasn't Dan loaded into the back of a police car? He had orchestrated her kidnapping!

It hurt to listen over and over again how armed and dangerous I was. And how the Feds were working around the clock to find out how many other people I've killed.

I also wanted to know.

I wanted to know whether Clay Carlin was on my hitlist, I wanted to know how many others before I realized what I was doing. How long it's been going on. And how did the Agency find me? Who was I before that?

 _"Ashley, if you're seeing this…"_

My head shot up, my heart hammering against my chest as I stared at a girl who looked about my age – whatever age that was – and for some odd reason, she looked vaguely familiar.

 _"My name is Kyla Woods, I'm your half-sister. We share the same father, Raife Davies."_

Half sister? _What?_

I scrambled from the bed and turned up the volume, unable to keep my hands from shaking as I took in the girl on the screen.

 _"_ _...Wherever you are, please, you need to turn yourself in. I will come meet with you, but this is on the law's terms. You have to-"_

Turn myself _in_? Was she out of her _mind_?

 _"_ _I know things have been difficult since your disappearance. We just want to help you. Please…"_

Her pleads seemed genuine, and as I sat and stared, I tried to allow the information I'd just heard to sink in. I had a _sister_? Someone had been looking for me all along? Somebody knew who I was - who I was _before_ the Agency! The fact that she mentioned I'd _disappeared_ offered the slightest comfort that I didn't join the Agency willingly.

 _"_ _Or you can contact the number below, I'd love to talk to you, Ashley. You'll be safe, I promise. Just… please…"_

The hotline number was replaced by a mobile number, and though I knew it was a trap, they'd ping my location immediately, I still saved the number in my phone.

I had so many questions; so many about my own life but also so many about hers. I couldn't deny how desperate I was to have family in my life. Apart from Spencer, it felt like I didn't even exist. Like she was the only proof that I was even alive. That I was a _person_ , with _feelings_ , and not a cold-blooded murderer like the world now saw me.

Still, it hasn't entirely sunk in yet. I was overwhelmed but felt so cut off, as if watching this from outside my own body.

Why _now?_ Why couldn't she have tried to find me sooner? _Before_ this whole mess started?

The TV station aired photographs of me when I was younger while Kyla still spoke in the background, and I couldn't help but stare tearfully at what seemed to be a content teenager. I seemed so confident, careless, _happy_. And I had friends, there were people who _knew_ me.

What _happened_ to me?

And why did it take all these years for someone to finally reach out to me? Where were my parents? Friends? Other family?

Have they all just _forgotten_ , given _up_?

The thought was heartbreaking and for the first time since I left Spencer behind, I felt a similar sadness washing over me.

Except _this_ time I didn't break someone's heart. They broke _mine_.

I felt rejected and abandoned; no-one cared about what happened to me, no-one even cared that I was gone. The only reason Kyla was on TV was because now the _world_ was looking for me. They didn't care that I was hurt, they didn't care about what the Agency had put me through; what they'd done to me. They took everything from me, including the most important thing of all; _memories_.

My existence started with Spencer, and even _that_ wasn't honest. She probably hated me and would turn me in. If she hadn't already.

I realized that I didn't have anywhere to go anymore. It was either back to Spencer and right into the hands of the police, or phone Kyla and let them arrest me here.

Part of me really wanted to reach out, to hear who I was in a life of innocence and youth. But no matter what I did, I'd never get those years back. I couldn't go back in time to start over.

I could only move forward; tell Spencer I loved her despite what she thought of me now, and then let nature take its course.

I got up and muted the volume, my hands still shaky, and sat down on the floor with my back against the bed, numbed by the confusion and sadness and fear of what was going to happen to me.

Was it even worth it to try and make it back to Spencer, only to be ripped apart by her disgust for me?

* * *

The grogginess around me took a few seconds to settle; it was dark out save for the flashing TV screen, and flashing lights outside.

 _Flashing lights?_

I jolted upright, a cold chill running through me at the realization that I've passed out on the motel room floor. But what had me freeze wasn't the time delay in my journey for a second time; it was the red and blue flashing lights outside.

I could hear the static of _walkies_ and CB radios, I could hear hushed voices and commands, orders going out to surround room number _five_.

My limbs went numb; I've been tracked down. I wondered if it was the bony teenager in reception.

The loading of guns and urgency in the air outside dawned on me that I was truly in a lot of trouble. Switching rooms had been a saving grace; there was no way I'd have made an escape while in room five.

But somewhere, someone was looking out for me. I still had a chance - very slim - but a chance nonetheless.

I stuck to my resolve to tell Spencer I loved her, no matter the consequence.

With a lot of effort I lifted my bags soundlessly off the floor and squeezed it underneath the bed. The rifle was easy; it was dismantled and could be flattened. The medical supplies took some effort but it fit; clearing the room of evidence that anybody was currently inside.

Except for myself.

I had to leave the TV on, guessing that all the rooms were under surveillance from outside. I didn't want them to knock on my door next if they couldn't find me in room five. I mused over how lucky I was to have fallen asleep on the floor. Room nine, apart from a TV that was on, showed no movement inside since I passed out.

So I stayed on the floor, leopard crawling to the bathroom. There wasn't any place to hide; the shower curtain was torn and noisy, but it was my only chance of survival. At least the shower was somewhat behind the open door, giving me an extra second of freedom before they found me.

I stood still, listening to the commotion outside as they finally broke down the door of room five.

"Ashley Davies! Come out with your hands behind your head!"

There was utter silence, and then an army of footsteps as they raided the small room. I heard them shout _"Clear"_ three times before the men stepped outside, confirming that I wasn't inside the room I was booked in to.

The person in charge ordered his men to check all the rooms, much to the annoyance of what I could make out was the motel owner.

"Who's going to pay for the doors? And the damage! This is outrageous!"

"Sir, Ms Davies is extremely dangerous. If she is hiding here-"

"I already _told_ you, the lady that booked in did _not_ fit her description."

"Sir, unless someone attacked Ms Davies and stole her laptop which has led us to this location - _which I highly doubt_ \- we have no choice but to search the premises. You didn't happen to see if the lady who booked in came with luggage or what car she drove?"

"I'll have to ask my son. But look around - do you _see_ any cars?"

My _laptop_? How on earth was that even possible? How did the police track my IP address and how did they even _discover_ it to start with?

I was startled out of my thoughts when the door of room eight was knocked down, and after several footsteps quickly moved around inside, the familiar _"Clear"_ indicated I wasn't in there either.

But my room was next. Though my bags were hidden and the room looked untouched, my fear of being caught broadcasted signals that had dogs howling in the distance.

My palms suddenly felt sweaty and my heart pounded _so_ hard people could probably hear it from outside. My legs threatened to give in, and I considered leaping to grab for my gun and take myself out of this misery.

But the moment the door splintered away from its hinges, crashing down into the room with a thud, my body went rigid, not even allowing a single breath to escape my lungs as the first " _Clear"_ rang through the main room.

* * *

 **The Scientist - Coldplay**


	58. Human

**A/N: Hello everyone! I'm sorry for the delayed update, it would have been out sooner but I came down with a terrible illness and left me in bed for quite some time. But anyway, here's the next chapter, I'm curious to know what your reactions will be, especially since I'm the only one who knows what happens next :P Enjoy! gives evil laugh**

* * *

 **Guest – CH57 : Sorry for the long wait! Hope you enjoy the update! Thank you for reading and reviewing!**

 **southtrash – CH57 : Well, I may not have** ** _completely_** **answered your question in this chapter, but I'm throwing a bone in this one. Enjoy! Thank you for reading and reviewing!**

 **Ibea04 – CH57 : I'm not too sure how to react to your reaction ;) I'm hoping it was shock and nerves and hoping for something good to happen. Then you may just almost like this chapter. Thank you for reading and reviewing!**

 **SoNFan – CH57 : Thank you ;) Hope you like this one too, I know people will have a lot of mixed feelings about it. Thank you for reading and reviewing!**

 **Redess89 – CH57 : I'm sorry and not sorry! This entire story turned out to be a cliffhanger of note, and this chapter won't disappoint! Hope you enjoy the update! Thank you for reading and reviewing!**

 **dnmann – CH57 : So glad that you got through the story and caught up, it means a lot! Hope you enjoy this chapter! Thank you for reading and reviewing!**

* * *

 **Ashley**

 **Human**

 _"_ _Clear."_

It was evident I wasn't coming out of any closets soon; not that there was space to hide in the small built-in cupboards. But I supposed the police had to do their job – as thorough as possible _especially_ while looking for a dangerous assassin who was on the run.

I didn't consider myself dangerous, the thought sounded ludicrous even in my own ears. I was very aware that killing people automatically put me into that category, but in my heart, I didn't want to be that monster. I just wanted to be me; Ashley Davies. I wanted to be with Spencer, be in love, live a normal life.

It even would have been nice to meet my so-called sister, Kyla.

Blocking out everything around me to live in a fantasy world for a whole five seconds crashed down on me as footsteps neared the bathroom. I was still holding my breath, willing every muscle in my body to freeze and stay that way until it really couldn't anymore.

The wall opposite the door lit up, a round bright circle bouncing off the yellowish wall, generating enough light to sit and read small print. Out of my peripheral view I followed the beam of the standard issued police LED flashlight, dust particles floating frantically in the air to make space for human molecules and DNA to enter the room.

A trail of perspiration made its way down my temple, dropping onto my exposed cheek, the salt burning into my flesh wound. All I could do was clench my jaw and pray for the sting – _and_ the cops – to go away before I involuntarily blew my own cover.

As much as I needed to suck in more air and still my racing heart the moment a silencer poked through the battered shower curtains, I couldn't even allow myself to _think_ – _too_ scared they would hear. The weapon pointed straight at me, right towards my chest, but the flashlight never quite caught my silhouette.

"Clear!"

The male voice echoed loudly through the bathroom, and I could hear static through his earpiece, and then an order to check the last room.

I was still holding my breath a minute later; even after I heard three distinct confirmations that room _ten_ was also vacant.

Tears stung my cheek worse than the sweat moments ago, and this time I gladly suffered through the pain, knowing at least I got to _do_ that. _Freely_.

* * *

As much as I hated parting from my prized muscle car, I had no other choice but to leave it behind. The fact that I've been made was terrifying, and I knew to risk being seen in the black Camaro was a death wish.

I still had no idea how exactly they've pinged my location, scared out of my mind to even _touch_ my laptop, or _anything_ in the Camaro for that matter. I also had an irrational fear that if I took anything from the car the police would jump out of the bushes and arrest me on the spot.

So I avoided the area behind the motel rooms completely, and with just my disassembled rifle in the camera bag, I emptied out the contents of the medical supply bag, checking carefully what could be of use to me.

There weren't a lot left; I just had the two bandages and disinfectant to work with. The couple of band-aids wouldn't cover my cheek but I took it anyway, and left the rest of the stuff in its bag, pushing it towards the back in the small built-in closet.

There was no plan; only a destination. Traveling to San Francisco on foot was going to be exhausting, and I doubted I'd make it within three days, given the extent of my injuries. Hitch hiking was out of the question – I couldn't trust anyone right now.

To be safe, I waited until after midnight before I even _dared_ to peek outside through the gaping doorway. I felt bad for being the reason the motel owner had to cover the costs of the damage to the rooms caused by the police, and it felt even worse to look around and see _all_ the rooms looked the same. Doors kicked in; pieces of wood still clinging to hinges and others completely bent out of the frames. It was by no means quality building material, but the motel offered refuge to anyone who needed a place to crash – five star service or not – and that alone was enough reason for me to leave a generous amount of bills on the bed of room number nine. I hoped the owner would accept my apology.

Sneaking out in the dark had its advantages; lights, _especially_ the flashing kind, were so much easier to spot and dodge, but after making it through town I was already exhausted. It was nerve-wrecking to be so alert and it used up a ridiculous amount of energy to find somewhere to hide whenever I heard or saw cars.

I was getting desperate; not only to curb the exhaustion, but also to travel faster and farther away from the threat of being caught. I wasn't naïve, I knew cops would be everywhere now. On every road, in every town. I had no idea if the motel owner's son had told anyone that I _'slipped up'_ about heading to Los Angeles – I could only hope so. But knowing and wondering were two different things. I had to be vigilant.

And move faster.

I spotted it while passing the umpteenth car lot; a dirt bike. I wasn't sure how I knew they didn't require keys to start – the only thing I could concentrate on was getting it away from the yard and race my way into freedom.

There wasn't a lot of light to work with, so inspection to see if it was worth the effort to even try and move it proved somewhat difficult. I didn't even know what to look for; the wheels were there, the chain seemed to be tightened properly over both sprockets, the brakes prevented me from pushing the bike when I pushed down on it, it all just seemed to good to be true.

But I didn't care.

With my bag securely fastened to my back, I grabbed onto the handlebars and quietly started pushing the bike away from its rightful owners. There wasn't any safe place to leave a wad of bills in exchange for the bike, so I just prayed it wouldn't come and bite me in the ass later for stealing something that didn't belong to me.

I pushed the dirt bike about two blocks away before I deemed it safe to kick start, and felt excitement rush through me as the loud two-stroke engine rattled to life. Despite all these stumble blocks that's kept me from Spencer, I had to admit that I was grateful to find a way around it every single time.

The bike was just another sign that no matter how bad I felt about myself, no matter how much of a monster I believed I was, the need to see Spencer and tell her that I loved her was so big, _so_ important, that _that_ alone would get me back to safety. I didn't care what happened to me after, even if the cops did find me, or perhaps I wouldn't even survive all of this; my sole purpose was to reach Spencer and let her know that she was loved. And appreciated.

I felt the smile and I felt my racing heart as I left behind the town of Prunedale, heading east towards Moss Landing instead of staying on Route 101. I reached the coast by sunrise and felt refreshed despite being tired and in need of rest. The constant vibration of the bike and attentiveness to cars and possible police blockades was draining.

But the smell of the ocean reminded me that I didn't have too far to go anymore; with the bike I could be back home by nightfall.

I tried to stay off main roads since I was traveling unsafely without a helmet; the lingering fear that I could fall and die nagged at me but I had to keep going. I was also wary that cops would spot and stop me for that very reason, and inevitably recognize me and lock me up.

I left Moss Landing and headed up towards Watsonville, and minutes later the beauty of Hecker Pass had me slow down and enjoy the ride. It wasn't all that safe, more construction work and deadly crooks and turns had my heart slow down to a stop numerous times, leaving me reprimanding myself for being careless without a helmet.

I kept going north, staying in the mountains and routes through state parks to avoid towns. While fueling up often was a main concern, I'd rather lose the time than my chance at seeing Spencer.

I reached the outskirts of San Jose by noon, my heart threatening to pound through my chest the closer I got to home. I was running out of options of back roads; having to trade mountainous nature for urban alleys. I had to be even more careful without a helmet; the city streets were filled with cops in general. I was standing out, and while being so close to my destination, I knew I couldn't take any chances.

I ended up finding a shop in Mountain View west of San Jose, in back streets where even I, as a professional sniper didn't feel all that safe. It wasn't because the area was dodgy, not at all. The houses and small business parks surrounding me were of superior quality, screaming upper-class area.

It made me nervous because I stood out even _more_ , with my face all banged up, hair a mess after the long bike drive, and knuckles white – a screaming contrast against the purple and blue hands – from holding onto the throttle grip and brakes for hours on end.

Every set of eyes behind the counter fell on me as I entered the shop, and I swallowed hard, instantly regretting another bad decision. Why did I keep _doing_ this to myself?

"Hey there, you need some help?"

I turned towards the over friendly male voice beside me, and flinched as the young salesman's eyes went wide at my appearance.

"Holy shit, are you _okay_?" He had no filter, and no sense of tact, and probably didn't realize the few people who _weren't_ looking when I stepped inside, _all_ had their attention on me now that his voice echoed through the bike accessory shop.

There was an agonizing awkward silence, my mind racing as I tried to come up with an explanation why I looked the way I did. But all I could mutter was that I needed a helmet, needing to get out of there as soon as I possibly could.

"Should you even be _riding_ after that fall? Do you want me to call an ambulance? What did you crash into?" the salesman persisted, excitement shining in his eyes as he regarded me.

I felt myself relax only slightly; people started minding their own business again but the salespeople behind the counter still had their eyes on me. I was particularly worried about the older guy reaching towards his phone, the earpiece lingering midair as he waited for my answer.

"I crashed on Hecker Pass this morning. Lost a couple of things, I need to go back first then I'll get to the doctors. Can you help me with a helmet?"

The eager enthusiast nodded and directed me to a shelf dedicated to off-road helmets. I wasn't entirely convinced that this was the way to go, since there was no visor and I wasn't planning on actually heading back to the pass.

I explained to him that I preferred a full face motorcycle helmet and his excitement escalated at the expensive sale he was about to make.

"That's three-hundred and twenty dollars," the cautious older cashier behind the counter said, his eyes still following my every move. At least he'd forgotten about phoning an ambulance, instead ringing up the sale after handing him four _Franklins_. His eyebrow raised at the cash but he didn't say anything and handed me my change and a receipt.

"You should get that looked at. Where did you say you're from?"

Uneasiness settled over me as I regarded the older guy carefully. He swallowed nervously, his pupils focusing everywhere but on me. His hand was back on the phone but he didn't lift the receiver, scared to give away the slight tremble in his limbs.

He knew.

My heart stopped momentarily.

I offered him a steely gaze, hoping to scare him off and let myself off the hook, the desire to get the hell out of there pumping wildly through my veins.

"I didn't. Have a nice day."

I smiled at him and turned around, taking a deep breath to walk out of the shop and not run like I wanted to.

I'd just pulled the newly purchased helmet over my head when I heard it; an army of sirens wailing very close by.

From my peripheral view I could see the staff from the shop hurrying over to the large glass windows, staring as I kicked and kicked to get the bike started.

My hands were shaking despite the heat of the early afternoon, and my ever racing heart was begging for relief.

But there was no time for relaxing; the moment the bike rattled to life, I opened the throttle and pulled away into oncoming traffic, ignoring horns and cussing as I swerved between them to disappear into side streets.

Though it was too late to ditch the bike and go into hiding, I knew I still had a chance to outrun the cops and hopefully make it safely back home. I had forty miles to go – an hour if even; I wasn't prepared to give up the fight while I was so very close to make it back to Spencer.

Two police cars stayed close behind me as I dodged through traffic; at some point I was sure I heard a helicopter trying to follow as well, but I lost it as I entered the southern regions of San Francisco, a smidge of relief washing over me to be back in a familiar place.

I made it up all the way to the Oakland Bay bridge, where my luck finally seemed to have run out. Traffic was gridlocked, and even with the bike, I wouldn't get through in time. One way or the other, I knew they'd have a blockade on the other side by the time I got off.

There were four squad cars chasing me now, one of them occasionally trying to come up to my side, trying to force me into stopping.

But I couldn't. Not when Spencer was on the other side of that bridge. I didn't care if she didn't want to see me, I didn't care if she turned me in, I didn't care if she'd want to kill me herself. I just wanted her to know.

Nothing has ever been more important in my life; for the brief time that I had the privilege of _living_ , of experiencing joy and laughter and love, I couldn't think of anything else but to let the very person who _allowed_ me those rare experiences know that I loved her back. She _had_ to know that, she _had_ to know that she made a difference, she _had_ to know that I never meant to hurt her. She _had_ to know that every smile I've ever smiled was because of her.

I just couldn't let them stop me now.

So I pushed on, dangerously swerving and drifting through stationary cars, the handle bars knocking against SUV bodies, sometimes ripping off sideview mirrors. My protruded knees – to keep the balance – would probably be bruised by the time I made it out as it slammed onto edges of truck bodies.

I could still hear sirens but the ones behind me stayed there – far behind. It was unsettling to know that it was now _ahead_ of me the closer I got to the end of the bridge.

I wasn't sure when the decision to take me out would be made, but when the massive blockade's flashing lights finally came into view, I knew I was screwed either way. Squad cars were parked to block off anything trying to squeeze through, and police officers were hiding behind open doors, weapons pointing towards the bridge – most likely towards _me_.

There was an enormous clearing between the first cars on the bridge and the blockade, probably for safety, and I could see a large crowd of people standing further back. They were most likely the occupants, and ordered out of their vehicles.

I was _so_ close, too close, and my chest tightened at the looming defeat. Was I really about to be arrested a mile from home, a mile from _Spencer_?

I slowed down, and eventually just stopped between the cars still on the bridge, considering my options.

There was no way I could speed into that blockade – surely _someone_ was going to mess up and pull a trigger. Or everyone, for that matter.

Ditching the bike and helmet was the best thing I could do, but going by foot wouldn't help me either. There was nowhere for me to go, unless I turned back, or jumped off the bridge. Neither option had a positive outcome. Since I couldn't see past the tunnel or what was waiting at the east end of the bridge, I didn't want to risk the four-and-a-half mile trip for nothing. The only good thing I had going for me was that the chopper overhead couldn't pinpoint my exact location from the bottom section of the bridge, losing sight of me quite a while ago. They had no visual yet, and while off the bike, neither had the cops ahead of me.

I dared to inch towards the right side of the bridge, trying to appear as inconspicuous as possible. We were right on the border of the bridge, I could see grass a few feet ahead of me. Jumping where I was could prove to be fatal, but if I managed to make it just a few hundred further, I could get off the bridge without the cops spotting me.

I had to take in consideration that they could be everywhere – no doubt covering the water surface with search and rescue boats all around. If I jumped, or ran, or appeared out of place – which I definitely was, _someone_ was bound to notice.

Like there was any other choice.

With my eyes trained ahead, trying to figure out what the cops were up to, I made my way forward step by step. Hundreds of people had abandoned their cars to see what the commotion was all about, but I was still noticeable. The gash in my face for one thing, not to mention how bad the rest of my appearance looked. I didn't doubt for a second that three quarter of the commuters on the bridge had seen the news by now.

With the police on the other side, surely people were clued in with what was happening.

It was just amazing how it didn't scare them that such a dangerous killer was amongst them.

Did they not realize that they were all supposedly in danger?

I laughed at my own dark joke, all the while keeping my senses alert; there were more than one helicopter in the air now and if I didn't disappear over the side of the bridge soon, they'd watch me do it and then lock me up. Or shoot, Whichever order came first.

With great effort, reminded that I had a gunshot wound stretching open as I reached to pull myself up and over the railing, I carefully trudged on a thin steel structure until I reached a column supporting the bridge's lower section. There wasn't much to hold onto, the cement column was huge and I couldn't even fold my arms around it properly before I slid down.

My shirt rode up in the process and the sting of being scuffed open all over my ribs had me incapacitated and breathless by the time my feet touched solid ground. Blood immediately seeped through the worn bandage wrapped around my stomach, and I knew I'd done some serious damage.

I had to keep an incredible low profile, almost leopard crawling back to the water, hiding in the grass as I sailed my way past the police blockade. They even had dogs out and a large trailer unit parked to the side, all monitoring the bridge.

Several uniformed officers were scattered close by, chatting but their eyes never leaving the scene on the bridge. It was harrowing, my body aching and threatening to seize up after the torture it's been through. But I kept going, ignoring the stabbing of endless sheaths of dry grass poking into me, ignoring the rough pebbles and hard uneven ground jutting into my abused hands, ignoring all the pain and torment, knowing I'd get to see Spencer after this.

I crawled until the police blockade were several hundred feet away from me, until the distance between the freeway and the land leading into the harbor increased and the threat of danger loomed far behind.

Only until I couldn't go further, forced to stand up and act normal to avoid the stares of nearby security standing guard at their posts, did I make a beeline for it.

It was agonizing. Running into traffic, as if my life depended on it.

Well, it did, but this wasn't for me. Escaping and making it back hadn't been for me since I left San Jose a couple of days ago – or was that weeks already – to go to Long Beach and find Danielle Miller.

This was for Spencer.

* * *

I found my condo just as I left it.

The memory of Spencer crying against the front door stung, but I barreled through it – physically and figuratively – my body collapsing on the floor as I made it inside.

I was out of breath, fearing that my lungs wouldn't grace me much more oxygen for long. The moment I wasn't on my feet anymore, the pain I put my body through folded around me like a blanket.

I cried out, gaining the attention of the ghosts – I was _so_ happy to see them but not in any state to think or speak coherently.

Madison rushed to my side, and I felt so terrible that I wasn't going to grant her her final wish. I was possibly going to die before she got the chance to make it out of there.

"Spencer… get Spencer," I begged her, the tears stinging my cheek relentlessly. I wasn't sure whether I was crying out of pain or out of relief – I was scared to be relieved because I needed Spencer. I couldn't let go until I didn't see her.

"I'll get her. Just hold on, okay? I'll get her," Madison comforted me.

I managed to drag myself to a couch but couldn't even get up; this got Sasha's attention.

"Why didn't you kill him?"

In my delirious state, I had no idea what she was talking about.

"Sean and Lily, you let them go. They're gone. But Dan – why didn't you kill him?"

"Sean and Lily are gone?" I repeated dumbly, my throat on fire as I tried to breathe and speak. It was getting harder by the second to keep my eyes open, to keep on breathing.

Everything hurt.

Sasha turned up the volume on the TV, and I cringed as we listened to the endless reporting of my killing spree back in Long Beach.

"While Mayor Miller is still in a very critical condition, we've received an update that Ashley Davies has made it all the way to San Francisco. She's been tracked to the Oakland Bay bridge, and police have confirmed her presence on the West span. Hundreds of officers are currently at the scene, combing through commuters to arrest Ms Davies. Police are urging commuters to stay in their vehicles, as Ms Davies are considered armed and very dangerous."

Despite the state I was in, I snorted at the ridiculousness of it all. I still didn't see myself that way. And I was thankful that they still thought I was on the bridge, giving me time, giving Spencer time to get to my condo.

"Good! You're back!"

I let out a groan at the sight of Kelly, a manila folder in her hands as she carefully made her way closer towards me.

"You look like shit. But don't worry, we're still here, and that means you can finish what you started. I know who ordered the hit on me. I've got everything right here, so this will be your next job. My fiancé was definitely the one who had me killed, and I want you to make her _suffer_."

I couldn't believe the audacity of Kelly. She had a smug look on her face that I wished I could just slap off, but in the condition I was in, we both knew she pretty much had the upper hand.

The only solace I had if I had to die now, was that Kelly would be stuck here forever.

She sat down on the couch I leaned against, opening the folder on her lap, starting to talk about the apparent bad person her fiancé used to be. I couldn't even listen to her; I didn't blame her ex-girlfriend – who _wasn't_ her fiancé yet, but I didn't correct her – if she _did_ order the hit. Whoever it was, they did society a favor.

"Kelly, shut up," Sasha urged, pushing up the volume.

My eyes trailed to the TV, dark spots starting to form in front of me. Where was Madison? And Spencer?

The news crew was in front of the hospital Dan Miller was in again, and I listened carefully with Sasha as the words _Breaking News_ flashed on the screen.

 _"It is with great sadness to announce that Mayor Miller has succumbed to his injuries and – "_

My heart stopped. Dan Miller was a terrible, evil man. But he was still Sasha's father, and she was sitting next to me, next to the person – the _assassin_ – who had killed both of them. I didn't care about him, but I cared about how this affected her.

It took great effort to turn and look at her, but what I saw wasn't what I expected. Sasha was in tears- tears I didn't know was possible for the ghosts. But it wasn't sad tears – there was a grateful smile on her face as she mouthed _thank you_ to me over and over again until she disappeared and I could only see the couch.

Sasha Miller was gone.

"Are you even listening to – hey, what's _happening_? What are you _doing_ to me?" Kelly yelled.

My head was fuzzy, my sight blurry, but I could make out how Kelly started disappearing the exact same way Sasha did.

I didn't understand, did _Dan_ have them killed? His own daughter? And Kelly? Were they all gone?

The utter silence felt rather deafening; I could hear how my breathing came out ragged and slurping almost. My heart pounded in my ears, working overtime to pump blood through my damaged organs as I tried to figure out what was going on.

My cheek started stinging again, and I realized the tears were running freely now. I didn't know why; I couldn't find relief until I saw Spencer. What was taking Madison so long? And why didn't I feel happy that so many ghosts were gone? That Kelly was gone? She couldn't hurt Spencer anymore.

"Ashley!"

I haven't realized that my eyes were closed, I haven't even realized that Madison was beside me, Aiden right behind her, and Spencer –

"Spencer!" I coughed hard, I was so desperate for her to hear me, to listen to me.

I could see in her face that she was in shock – I knew I looked like the monster I was. I wished she didn't have to see me like this. I should have pulled a blanket over my face.

"Ashley, hold on in there, please hold on," Spencer cried, sliding towards me on her knees, her soft cool hands cupping my cheeks.

I didn't care about the pain, the sting, the fact that everything hurt.

Nothing mattered except for the gentle blue eyes begging me to hold on.

"Spencer…" I gasped out, my chest wheezing loudly.

"Don't speak, help will be here soon," she reassured me, moving around to make me more comfortable.

I lifted a weak hand and folded it around her arm to stop her for a second. "Spencer," I whispered, desperately begging for her undivided attention.

She stopped and looked at me, so full of love, with so much concern that it _broke_ me. I choked out a sob and pulled her closer, scared that she wouldn't hear me over the wheezing. "I… I love you. I never meant to hurt you. I…"

Words failed me as my vision started blacking out. My nails dug into her as I tried to hold on, tried to take in every last detail of her beautiful face before I couldn't anymore.

"No," she pleaded, her voice cracking. "Ashley, stay with me. Please don't go. I love you too, you don't get to do this!" She was crying, the same way she cried that day I shattered her heart, and it _hurt_. "Please, stay with me," she begged.

I could feel her body shaking against mine, and I wished so that things could have been different. That I had more time with her, that I never broke her heart in the first place.

But I knew this was it for me. I wasn't sure what was going to happen to Madison and Aiden, and I wasn't sure how Spencer was going to cope after I was gone, but the relief I'd been aching for for _so_ long finally started washing over me.

I didn't want to give up, but the relief I felt wasn't only in my heart; it was like a fog, soothing all my wounds until I couldn't feel anything anymore. It was like being back in Spencer-heaven.

"I love you, Spencer."

* * *

 **Human – Christina Perri**


	59. Daisychains

**A/N: So, this chapter is the very first chapter I've written for this fic, and now that I'm here, it feels quite surreal, not only because I managed to keep the secret in for so long, but also because everything's finally come together to get to this point. It's been an amazing journey and this chapter and the very last chapter (both complete) have been my goal points.**

 **Now I know for me this all makes a lot of sense, and for you guys… well, I can only** ** _imagine_** **the reactions I'm going to get. But, think about the upside, the story is not done quite yet ;) I won't leave you guys hanging for too long, I'll be traveling in a months' time so I really hope to conclude GOAA and Where we began. Then, after I come back, it's comedy time ;)**

 **Thank you all so much for reading up to here and enjoying the ride with me, it's been an amazing experience! I hope this chapter does its job – feel free to drop a review with your thoughts!**

* * *

 **Dnmann – CH58 : Thank you very much! Hope you enjoy this one even more!**

 **K1989 – CH58 : Lol, I know, I was just as anxious to get it out so I could drop this major chapter on you, hope you enjoy it! And I wish, it's winter here, flu season galore, and unfortunately I'm susceptible to these annoying things because of my chronic meds so it really sucks. But anyway, up and running at the moment so making every second count!**

 **Southtrash – CH58 : Yes she did make it ;) And I'm so glad someone asked that question (sharp eye, you!) – but I'm not going to answer it here, your answer might lie in this very chapter ;) Hope you enjoy the update!**

 **ToriDub – CH58 : Aaaaw, I wouldn't put everybody through that massive chase and not let Spashley reunite – I've been cruel in this fic but I'm not** ** _that_** **cruel. But… this chapter, well, I don't want to say much here I'd rather you read it, it's going to…. Aargh, I can't say it! Nope, you'll just have to read. I like the idea of Spencer having called Chelsea for help, if the story went a different path then I could have used that thank you ;) You will get some answers in this chapter but it's also a huge Pandora's box, and I know people are going to go WTF lol. That's all I'm saying! Thank you for the well wishes! Enjoy the update and I'm looking forward to hear your thoughts on this one!**

 **GirlsOnly – CH58 : I'm glad you enjoyed the action! I'm not going to tell you what happens next – this chapter should do that all on its own ;) Hope you enjoy the update, and thank you for the well wishes!**

 **SonFan – CH58 : I hope you didn't have to wait too long, I never intend to leave you guys hanging, if I could write 24/7 to get this fic out I promise I would have! ;) Hope you enjoy the update!**

 **BlueEyed – CH58 : I'm grateful for your patience and I'm sorry it took so long to update, hopefully this chapter will make up for it! Like I mentioned above, though I enjoy reading the reviews and love the suspense the cliffhangers are creating, it's never my intention to have you guys wait so long each time. Originally the idea was to get a chapter out each week, but so many things influence your time and life so it's not always possible, but on the plus side, sometimes I manage to get out two or three updates out in one week. Like now. Hope you enjoy this one!**

 **SON4LIFE – CH58 : Caught your review just in time before I uploaded! Spencer was definitely happy to see Ashley again but yes, things can't just go back to how it was, but that's all I'm saying for now, this chapter will tell you the rest! Hope you enjoy the update!**

* * *

 **Spencer**

 **Daisychains**

I used to love summer. I used to love getting up early, way before the alarm clock would go off, and go for a jog on the beach. Sometimes Dad joined me – at his age, he preferred staying in shape the old fashioned way. On days where I was lazy, I'd jog about 5 miles, get some lattes from the coffee shop close to home, snuggle up behind Kelly until she'd wake up from the aroma of her favorite coffee. It would still be way too early for the alarm clock, but what I loved about summer, was that days started early, they were _long_ , and ended late.

Long could be exhausting, but that's when I knew that I was living life to its fullest.

How I craved for long days. For days where I was excited to get out of bed. For days where Kelly would be behind me, on her side, her chest rising and falling ever so slightly as she dreamed of flowers and fields and happy days.

I tried to fool myself a couple of times, jumping around, only to find an emptiness that speared through my heart like a lance hitting its unprotected target. Unprotected, like my heart. I did little these days to protect it, what was the point?

Through the haze of depressing thoughts, I heard the alarm buzzing once, and like the piece of technology promised, switched to my favorite radio station. Not that I was ever in bed long enough to listen to the morning show, but there was something about the mellow DJ's announcing the start of another new day. Their selection of music to wake up to wasn't too shabby either – I was a big fan of the alternative and indie rock scene.

Kelly hated it, but tolerated it. For me.

I was tempted to shove the piece of plastic to the floor, but even that was just too much effort.

My eyes finally opened, puffy, probably red, and followed up the contours of the mahogany nightstand right next to my head. The corners were sharp, crisp, giving the furniture a sleek, modern and elegant look. There were minimal decorations – not entirely by choice; my prized alarm clock which I found at the Radio Shack back in college, a dark, cylindrical lamp allowing only a soft glow of light at night, a large photo frame with two pictures squashed inside – one of myself and Kelly, the other of my family. Everything was neat, right in its place, a symmetrical setup right on the other side of the bed. The only thing out of place was my phone, face down on charge, and dust. Yes, a _lot_ of dust.

It was just too much work. I didn't want to be here anyway. As soon as things have settled, and Kelly's estate was sorted out, I was selling. I couldn't be here. Not without her.

 _"… and for our listeners following politics; the decision will be made today whether the case of States versus Polit-Enterprises will be taken further. If ruled in the States' favor, the judge could possibly rule that the case move to the Supreme Court in Washington. Stay tuned for updates as this case progresses today at the San Francisco Supreme Court. And that's it for the news at six, let us entertain you with some Australian rock… "_

When a vaguely familiar song started up, reminding me of Kelly and flowers and daisies, my arm shot up and swept across the nightstand like a snowplow, pushing everything down to the floor. I didn't even flinch at the sound of shattered glass – probably the lamp and picture frame – or the thump of my phone landing on the melamine floor. At least the alarm clock was silent, preventing more pain to seep through my skin into my heart.

I turned on my back with a heavy sigh, tears of indecision threatening to fall.

It's only been four days.

Four days ago I was ecstatic to hear that I'd be heading to court today, praying that the judge would rule in our favor to hand over the case to D.C. Just continuing with the case was already a breakthrough for us.

And of course, the reason Kelly and I had a fight that night. She stormed out, and that was the last time I ever got to see her.

Her funeral was another four days away – organized entirely by her family. They shut me out as if I was the one who had pulled the trigger on their daughter. I never understood them; some days they were thrilled to see me, other days, especially after having another fight with Kelly, they were short-fused and distant. It ate away at me, and I had tried so hard to stop the fighting. The only thing left to do was quit my job, my career, my _dreams_ – because obviously Kelly wouldn't quit with the politicians and their filthy funds. That was the only way for us to progress from a couple to perhaps fiancés, and – _wishful thinking_ – wives and ultimately parents. I loved her enough to have given it up for her was it not for the news about our case getting one last shot. I was going to tell her that night, over a romantic dinner.

Instead, we were informed of the news, I got stuck at work, having to blow Kelly off, and then… well, she never made it to dinner. Nobody saw what happened. It felt so surreal and impossible; they were busy with a delivery in the alley. How was it possible that not a single person was outside with her at that moment? And would a mugger – as concluded by the police – really be so desperate for whatever she had on her, to shoot her right in the face?

The tears fell despite trying to hold them back.

Everything about that case felt suspicious and I found it hard to believe that it was a mugging. But the police shut me out the same way her parents did. I wasn't even allowed to see her – perhaps that was a good thing. It just felt that I was left without closure.

And here I was, four days later, indecisive about going to court. It was everything I've ever dreamt of, everything I worked so hard for my entire life. If I didn't go, I would regret it just like I regretted everything gone wrong between myself and Kelly. If I ended up going, I'd never hear the end of it from her parents and most likely the media.

I let out a loud cry of pure frustration. But even I wasn't naïve enough to ignore the pain laced in my own, broken voice.

With another heavy sigh I turned on my other side, staring at the empty side of the bed, my eye catching the photograph of myself and Kelly on her nightstand.

We were so happy when we were not fighting. She made me happy. My parents were accepting, sometimes wary, but they would accept her into the family as my wife within a heartbeat. Her green eyes popped in that particular photo, and I found myself just staring, imagining her right next to me, her black hair half in her face, offering a sleepy smile as she woke up. It felt so real, and if I could just stay like this, and see her like this a little longer –

 _Bzzzz... Bzzzz…_

 _No, no, no…_ The image in front of me disappeared, replaced with emptiness once again, and I cursed myself for not shoving my phone down the nightstand harder. If it was broken I could have stayed in my imaginary world with Kelly forever. I'd lie in bed next to her until eternal sleep took me from this sadness and overbearing pressing pain in my heart.

But no, whoever was phoning, was persistent.

I turned back to my side, reaching blindly to the floor, fumbling until my fingers gripped around the sleek, thin, vibrating phone.

"Hello?" My voice was raspy and it hurt to talk after being mute for three days.

 _"Oh, sweetie…"_ I could hear the sadness in Dad's voice, and I knew he didn't mean to sound sympathetic – he knew I hated that right now.

"Hi dad."

 _"Are you up?"_

A pang shot through my heart, remembering how I used to love my early mornings with Dad – talking my heart out while we were out on our jogs. His question was similar to those mornings, wanting to know if I was ready to go.

I'd never be ready to go again. Life had bled from my limbs the same way it bled from Kelly's forehead the day she was taken away from me.

"No," I replied weakly, feeling rather ashamed for wanting to wither away in bed.

But Dad was persistent. _"I know you're not ready for exercise, but would you be interested in a special delivery of homemade Carlin coffee?"_

The tears started rolling again. I pushed myself up reluctantly, and without really caring about my appearance - it was just Dad after all - padded to the front door, breaking down as I opened the heavy mahogany door to see my father standing on the other side, his beloved thermos in one hand, the other still clutching his phone to his ear.

The smile he pasted on for me turned upside down as he took in my appearance and tears, and in a swift movement he pushed me inside, coffee and phone planted on the little mahogany foyer table, and wrapped his arms protectively around my shaking body.

"Oh, Spence…" he soothed, leading me further inside, grabbing the thermos on the way. He sat me down on the large sofa in the living room, his body close to mine as he sat down next to me, wiping furiously at the tears with his thumbs.

It felt strange to have human contact, even though it's only been three days since I've secluded myself into the solitude of the condo Kelly and I had bought together.

I watched with bleary eyes as he opened the thermos flask, my heart breaking even more as the aroma of Dad's special coffee filled my nostrils. It brought back so many memories – happy, childhood memories – and I wished I could turn back time, and go back to naivety and happiness and just be a child again in the protection of my loving parents' house.

Oh, what I wouldn't give to just go back in time…

"Here, this won't take all the pain away, but I hope the taste will take you to a happier place for a while. Even if it just lasts as long as the sip."

He pressed the lid – doubled up as a cup – into my hands, earning a soft chuckle from me at his words. It wasn't at all funny, but Dad had this way of making things better no matter how dire the situation was. I knew he couldn't fix it, neither could his infamous house coffee, but I was game for anything that would take the pain away, even if it was just temporary. Even if it just lasted as long as a sip of this magic potion.

And it did. I closed my teary eyes, allowing the simple action of drinking coffee to take me away to a childhood memory I'd long forgotten. I wasn't really a child anymore, but it felt so long ago - everything happy felt long ago – and I could see myself smile, laugh even. I was back in high school, right after we moved to LA from Ohio. It was a difficult time for me, since I was at the brink of finding out that I was gay and had to deal with telling my parents, but it was easier than I thought. My coming out story was nothing big, nothing fancy – there was this girl I had a huge crush on, but our paths never crossed the way I would have liked. It was ultimately just a small kiss between the two of us, spurred on by drunken friends at a party, that had Clay and Glen convince me that our parents would continue to love me no matter what.

It was all the courage I needed, so I sat them down that same night and broke the news over a cup of coffee.

Mom said she knew all along, while Dad was trying to figure out how he'd keep his kids from stealing each others' girlfriends.

I think after that night, my parents loved me just a little bit more than before.

"This batch must have been the best I've ever made."

I opened my eyes to see a soft smile on Dad's aging face. My cheeks hurt slightly and I realized that I was smiling too.

"Can I have some of that magic too? I'd love to imagine your mom and I retired, on the beach, Hawaii perhaps, drinking cocktails and laughing over new intern mishaps."

I offered the cup with another chuckle, feeling ever so thankful for having Arthur Carlin as my dad. There wasn't any better than him out there. Being the only girl in the house, I sometimes found it odd that I was closer to my dad, and not surprising, both Glen and Clay were closer to Mom. Not that I loved Mom any less, we were close too, but there was a special bond with Dad that I couldn't really describe.

"So," Dad said tentatively after taking a sip. His expression was slightly serious as he faced me. "Are you going to go today?"

And my happy moments disappeared in an instant.

"What's the point?" I breathed out somberly, having asked myself that very same question for the past two hours.

Dad sighed, and with thought behind his movements, refilled the now empty cup and offered it to me. He waited until I realized I was supposed drink some more, but there was no way I could go back to happy memories now.

Dad knew this – knew _me_ all too well.

He cleared his throat after I took the first sip and folded my hands tightly around the warmth the cup offered.

"Do you remember when you decided to apply for law school, when you chose environmental law?"

I nodded, unsure where he was going with this. Of course I remembered – it was all I ever wanted to do. Save the earth. I was no hippie – far from it – but I knew Dad had his reservations back in the day. Mom believed I was smoking pot at the time. Glen _wanted_ me to be high – he had no direction in life after Clay died, and seeing me fail like him would lift the disappointment our parents had off his shoulders for a while.

But no, I was no hippie. I truly cared about animals and plants, and I was a sucker for marine life. It tore into me how these things I loved got destroyed every day. With some interest in law thanks to Sean, and a lifetime dedication to the earth, it was decided that I would become an environmental lawyer.

 _"What's the point?"_ Glen had asked me back then, and my answer was simple. I knew I couldn't take on humankind all on my own to save our earth, but I was going to give my all and know I tried, rather than asking, like Glen, what was the point. If everybody had that same outlook in life, the world would have been destroyed a long time ago already. But I knew people could make a difference – whether they did it on their own or as a team – it could be done.

My determination finally had Glen rethink his own life and he became one of LA's most prominent detectives.

Who would ever have thought.

"Yeah, I remember," I finally whispered, starting to get a feel for the conversation Dad was about to have with me. I loved his insight so much.

"You're not smoking pot _now_ , are you?" Dad chuckled, and I let out a light laugh at the memory. Mom went as far as getting me tested before she allowed me to apply for environmental law.

Smoking pot now wouldn't have been so bad – perhaps it would have helped to dull the pain a little. But no, I didn't, wouldn't ever, and shook my head.

Dad sighed out in relief, making a point out of it to cheer me up a little. He always had the ability to do that, and I knew he'd probably succeed today too.

"Do you still think you could make a difference?" His tone didn't imply that I was in any way failing at what I was doing. In fact, I suddenly realized that he was going to convince me to go and do what I always wanted to do; save the earth.

"Yeah." There was more conviction in my voice than I had expected. Perhaps because I knew we'd get our case heard in Washington. Once the dirty politicians were exposed to the White House, we'd make history, not only in the US, but in the world. Fame wasn't what I was looking for. I wanted people to be conscious about the environment they were destroying. And my message was spreading – if we could reach D.C, I knew my job was done, whether we won the case or not. This kind of exposure was all we needed to make our voices heard across all continents.

"So, are you going to go today?" Dad repeated cautiously. He reached out, giving my hand a supportive squeeze.

I had to do this, if not for Kelly, then for myself. I refused to reduce all the hard work, all the fights, the tears, the long hours, the promises of a bright future, a family – I refused to reduce that to another regret. I took a deep breath and let it out heavily. "Yeah."

Dad's smile finally reached his eyes, and I couldn't help but notice the lines around his eyes and mouth, subtle hints of grey in his dark slightly curled hair, and the way his voice sometimes cracked. But to me, he still looked young and handsome and his striking blue eyes pulled me in, the same way people told me they were mesmerized with my own. He aged well, and with aging, Dad's wisdom seemed to increase tenfold. The love I felt for this guy was incredible.

He pulled me into his arms, offering a tight squeeze before he loosened his grip around my shoulder. "That's my girl. You're a fighter, Spence, and I know you'll pull through. You always do."

* * *

Thoughts of Kelly never entirely left me, couldn't even be pushed to the back of my mind. But the moment the words _"grant an appeal"_ left the judge's lips, the world and all its worries around me disappeared blissfully.

I found myself glancing over at Sean, smirking at the look on his face. I knew he was as ecstatic as I was – this was _huge_. While I had just achieved a goal I had worked my entire life for, Sean had the door opened for him to reach his. Our firm, whether we succeeded in D.C. or not, was now officially on the map. We would forever be known as the small group of misfits who took on some of the U.S. most villainous politicians. Our case would go down in history books, not only of the States, but in the world. It was time people realized what they did to our precious planet, and to which lengths some people went to destroy it.

My immediate reaction was to fish my phone out of my suit pocket to text Kelly and tell her the amazing news. But I stopped midway for a reason that scared me. This was bad news for her, for her empire. The dirty money and political links she'd made to grow her little _flower empire_ , was going down. Her dealings with them would be exposed, and I was scared of what would be brought to surface. She was going to _hate_ me.

And then I realized she _couldn't_.

Because she was _dead_.

Uneasiness settled over me, bringing a slight tremble to my fingers already clasping my phone.

I felt my breath quickening and sent a silent prayer begging to be able to hold myself together long enough to at least get out of the courtroom. My bottom lip quivered and I bit down hard to contain myself.

The judge continued talking after knocking her gavel on the sound block, temporarily distracting me from my inner turmoil.

"Now, since it's still classified as a class action, I will need to have counsel come and see me tomorrow morning at 8AM sharp to discuss D.C.'s pretrial conference and other matters going forward. Court dismissed."

The courtroom turned into total chaos as the judge left for her chambers. I was grateful for it, but knew attention would be on me soon, and I wasn't ready for this.

I wasn't ready to face the world I was trying to save. Because in the midst of it all, I was broken and couldn't even save myself.

 _Just breathe in, breathe out. Deep breaths, Carlin, you can do this._

I had to keep telling myself to breathe because without that mantra, I was coming undone. My Armani suit felt sticky on my clammy skin, and I knew the brand new white dress shirt was soaked and ruined. The back was clinging to my blazer, and despite the heat in the stuffy courtroom, I was thankful that I'd buttoned up my blazer before proceedings started.

I closed my eyes for a brief moment, drawing strength from the lifetime goal I had just achieved. I knew my parents would be ecstatic. Dad had probably taken a break and watched the proceedings in the hospital cafeteria. Mom was swamped with surgeries – she'd most likely hear the news from Dad. And Glen – I wanted to phone him, and tell him that _this_ was the point. I knew he'd be proud, just like I was of his accomplishments.

And Clay… he would have been here today. Before he was taken away from us in Iraq, he was Sean's best friend. He made my soon-to-be-partner promise to always look after me should anything happen to him. And things happened just as he'd predicted. He knew he wasn't coming back. He knew Sean and I would end up best friends, and become a powerful team with our professions one day.

While Dad was wary and Mom thought I'd turn out a hippie, Clay always knew, even back in school, that I'd get my message across somehow.

And look at me. At us. We did it.

From the corner of my eye I watched John Paxton exchanging words with Sean.

Empty threats – we'd been subjected to those for years now. It got worse during the past few months, and my gut was still telling me Kelly's death was no mugging-gone-wrong. It was a hit, and it was on purpose. Whether it was supposed to hurt her or me, I'd never know. My firm would never stoop as low to do unlawful things. On the contrary, we _embraced_ law. My theory was that she was silenced, or I was warned.

John moved away from Sean, and a chill ran down my spine as Dan Miller, mayor of Los Angeles, exchanged a death glare with my best friend. I knew this was a personal victory for Sean. Dan had been harassing him and his family, even up here in Frisco, ever since we got a second chance to appeal. Dan was a sore loser, and we were going to have to increase security at the office, at our homes, with our families… the list was endless.

Dan's stare even made _me_ nervous, so I fell into step next to Sean and urged him to keep his chin up high. "Hey, we should get going, we've got interviews outside."

I knew that would excite him, and his smile was contagious. He straightened his tie, wiped his face with a hankie, and with a last superior smile to our opposition, led us and the rest of our team outside the courtroom. We could see the hordes of reporters and photographers through the glass doors of the courthouse, entirely blocking the exit to the parking lot.

Sean looked over at me, and I felt the strength enlightening me, and we nodded to each other, ready to take on what waited outside. We'd answer questions meticulously while swiftly moving towards our cars. We'd meet up at the office in an hour, where we'd have a celebratory glass of expensive champagne while signing official partnership. The documents were already drafted, profit-sharing and capital input stipulated and stamped by our accountant, everything was ready; just waiting for our happy signatures.

Finally, some excitement coursed through my veins. And I allowed it, allowed myself to feel happy despite grief and sadness enveloping my entire being.

"Carlin! Exclusive for old time's sake?"

I spun around and a genuine smile made its way onto my face as Lily Zee approached me. I'd forever be grateful that she was stealing my time away from these gossip-hungry reporters. Lily was as invested in this case as we were, so her questions wouldn't turn personal. And if it did, she'd never do it on air. She'd become a close friend over the years Sean and I have been fighting the politicians.

Lily reached out and squeezed my arm. "I'm glad you're here, Spencer."

We both knew the meaning behind that, and I swallowed back tears of appreciation. I made a mental note to thank Dad for talking me into this. I would have regretted it for the rest of my life if I had to watch our victory from a lonely living room on a big flat screen TV paid for with dirty money.

My thoughts were bitter but I couldn't help it. I was torn and confused and mourning the death of my girlfriend of three years, who I was ready to give all of this up for, so she could continue and ruin the earth with shady dealings and cover it up by growing pretty flowers. She wasn't the innocent flower girl I fell in love with, but she was still my girlfriend and I was invested, in her, in us, in a future. I was ready for engagement parties and marriage and children.

Proving my high-school crush right. She broke my heart when she said I was just a naïve little small town – _Ohio_ – girl.

Perhaps.

But look at me now.

Widowed before I even got the chance to say _yes_ , _and_ taking on the world by storm.

"Do you want us to do this later?"

I felt my cheeks heat up, completely caught off guard. I couldn't help myself, my mind wouldn't stop lately. Lily seemed understanding enough to let me go; I'd make it up to her, perhaps even later over drinks after my meeting with Sean. But right now, I just needed to get out of here and catch some fresh air. Compose myself. Get my feelings and thoughts under control. Perhaps change shirts.

"Would you mind?" I asked shyly, knowing Lily wouldn't really mind. She'd get an exclusive, where all the rest of these reporters would be sharing the same line of "State won" for the rest of the day's news.

Lily gave my arm another squeeze and smiled sympathetically. I hated when people did that. "Give me a call in a bit, okay? We'll meet up somewh – "

Her words froze in her throat, the same way my body went rigid at the deafening sound of gunshots.

"Spencer, get down!"

Lily was already flush to the ground when she called after me. I think my heart stopped for a moment, rendering me unable to process this bizarre, impossible situation we were in. People fell all around me, and in my mind's eye, I imagined that is how Kelly fell to the ground.

Fear and pain and panic gripped its claws tight into my heart, but shock still had me frozen in place, until I felt a hand yank me down hard.

"Come on, I see Sean," Lily whispered, I don't know why, because everything around us was so _loud_. Like popcorn. Extremely deadly popcorn. She leopard-crawled a few feet back, towards to courthouse, pulling me with her.

For a fairly level-headed person, this situation had me completely dumbstruck. I always thought I'd be able to take leadership during crises or emergency situations, but I couldn't get myself to take charge, or even react. My body was shaking, mind racing a mile a minute, and all I could think about was this must have been what Kelly had felt. Shock; did she even have a chance to register what was happening before her life ended? Could she even react? Did she have a fair fighting chance?

"Spencer!" Lily tugged on my arm, urging me to keep moving. I hadn't even realized that I had stopped. Bodies kept falling around us, the sound of bullets hitting metal, bricks, glass, _people_ , deafening in my ringing ears.

As much as I tried to get a grip and activate _fight or flight_ mode, my body and brain just wouldn't cooperate. It was all just too much for me. First Kelly, now this. Was she waiting for me in heaven?

I choked up, thinking of my parents, Glen, Chelsea, everybody I'd be leaving behind today.

"Thank God you're all okay." Sean's voice seeped through my hazed thoughts, grounding me just a little.

"It was a bank robbery gone bad," Lily whispered from a complete new direction. I hadn't even realized that she was gone for a moment. "The police are on it, they're everywhere and said we must stay down."

Right, stay down. I could do that – my brain could follow that simple instruction.

Sean repeated it firmly, showing off _his_ leadership skills. "Just stay down everyone."

Sirens started filling the air, ceasing the sound of gunfire. But there was a noise worse than listening to emptying magazines. The aftermath. Cries; some pained, some desperate, some whimpered, some dying mid-air. Choking sounds, people coughing up blood. Scuffing as people dragged their injured bodies, or colleagues' injured bodies, across the tarmac parking lot. Panic, as people started realizing what just happened.

"Alright, is everybody okay? Anyone hurt?" Once again, Sean's leadership was outstanding. His voice was strong, he was strong.

I stared blankly ahead, repeating my mantra to breathe in and breathe out. I wasn't hurt, but I wasn't okay either. Far from it.

I heard more strong voices, and looked up, trying really hard to get myself out of this stupor, and just _do_ something. If I could just get up and stand next to Sean, talk to the police officers, offer assistance.

But Sean had it under control, turning to us after talking to the police. I was up on my feet – not quite sure when that happened – but ready to get out of here. I needed to see my parents. I just needed Dad to hug me and hold me and tell me everything would be okay. And Mom, offering soothing backrubs and Tylenol when I wasn't well and –

"Right, go home people. Get some rest, go see someone if need be, and I'll see you back in the office on Monday – not a day sooner." Sean patted some of our team on the shoulders, offering assistance to get them out of here. He finally turned to me, a sympathetic smile on his face. It's been a long day, and it wasn't even noon yet. "Carlin, I'll call you late –"

I felt Dad's early morning coffee rising up in my throat, burning all the way from my stomach up to my mouth, threatening to spill. Sean plummeted to the ground, his eyes frozen with terror, his face frozen in fear, his forehead gushing blood in splurts. I dropped with him, grabbing onto him, holding his hand, my eyes teared up, silent tears spilling. I could see he wanted to speak, his mouth half open, but the words just never came out.

"C – "

And then I heard it, right before I felt it. A silent _whoosh_ , cracking bones, and a bit of a _slurp_. A gasp escaped me, the force strong and painful, knocking me down completely. I could faintly make out sounds coming from my own mouth, the same gargled sounds I had just heard minutes ago from other people who had gotten shot.

Was that what just happened to me?

Did they shoot me?

Somebody was screaming Sean's name, and then mine. I briefly saw paramedics. They were talking, yelling, crying. Or was that me?

I felt a strange pressure in my chest, and blindly reached with my hand to try and establish what was going on. The result was crimson red, and a _lot_ of it.

I frowned. Did they really shoot me?

Is this what Kelly felt? Could she feel it? I wasn't too sure.

My thoughts were confusing, and my surroundings were scary. So I let my eyes focus on the blue sky in the far distance, until it became dark, and then just nothing at all…

* * *

It was like drowning. I've been there once before; under Mom's watchful eye. The moment she looked away I slipped myself fully into the pool, unaware that at the age of four, my legs were not long enough to be flat on the floor _and_ stretch my body above the surface of the water level. I was lucky enough that Mom's attention had been off of me for only a second, because the next thing I knew, a strong hand grabbed onto my arm, pulling me up.

But this time, instead of pulling me up to take the deep breath I so desperately needed, a strong hand kept pushing me down. I fought it, wanting up, my lungs screaming for oxygen. Red and black spots danced in front of me and I wasn't too sure whether my eyes were opened or closed. I was drowning, and they kept pushing me under.

Hands kept fumbling above me, working fast, movements swift and calculated. I heard words like _ventilation_ and _tracheal_ _intubation_ and _tachycardia_ , wishing I could pause this moment to grab for my phone and consult _Google_.

But no, there wasn't time, and my desire to breathe surpassed the need to learn new words.

 _"We're losing her! What's our ETA?"_

The red splotches started fading, just like the last ounce of energy I had to try and force air into my lungs.

Soon there was only black, and then blank.

* * *

"Female, GSW through the chest, no exit wound. Hemodynamically unstable, tachypneic. We need an OR stat!"

"Spencer! Oh my – Spencer, baby, just hold on, you hear me?"

Have you ever been in a situation before where all you wanted was your mother, and when that moment _finally_ arrives, your body just… gives up the fight out of pure relief?

* * *

"We discovered blood in the pericardium so we extended the incision to a median sternotomy. The transesophageal echocardiogram revealed a bullet in the septum of the left ventricle. The bullet was retrieved via a transverse incision in the apex of the left atrium, which we closed with a running 3-0 Prolene suture. We'll be keeping her intubated overnight and see how things look tomorrow. It's best you guys get some rest too."

"Thank you, Doctor. But we'd rather stay."

"Very well, doctor Carlin. Page me, if you need anything."

"We will, thank you."

* * *

"Dad, you want some coffee?"

"Yeah, thanks Glen. If you happen to see Mom on your way, can you ask her to stop by?"

"Sure Dad."

* * *

"I raised a fighter and I'll be damned If I'm gonna let you prove me wrong, Spence. You hold on in there okay?"

"Arthur?"

"Oh, hey sweetie."

"Is everything okay? Glen said – "

"Can you sit with me for a bit? Please?"

"Sure... Are you okay?"

"I… I can't lose her too, Paula. First Clay, now Spence. Where have we gone wrong, what did we do wrong?"

* * *

I felt like a twenty-five-year-old in an eighty-year-old body. Maybe I _was_ eighty – things around me felt different and futuristic and sterile and –

"Spence?"

It hurt to turn my head towards the angelic sound, a voice I haven't heard in a while. It was the same voice I heard three of the nine months I spent in her womb. The same voice that carried me through infancy, toddlerhood, childhood, teenage years, through the throes of early adulthood, through happiness and victories, through heartaches and heartbreaks, through everything, really. And here she was, calming my racing heart, stilling the fear and soothing the sense of disorientation.

"Honey?"

My eyelids felt heavy, my eyes itself were dry and scratchy, and it took a couple of test runs before I could properly lift the lids to take in my surroundings. Everything was a mixture of light blue and gradients of white into grey.

I had to concentrate hard and felt relief wash over me when the scratchiness disappeared, helping me focus.

And my, what a sight she was.

Had everything not been so fuzzy, I'd take note of detail, notice how she seemed to have aged overnight, how the lines around her eyes seemed deeper, wrinkles of worry etched permanently on her forehead, her blue eyes filled with sadness and worry.

But all I noticed was the familiar face, the smile, the lit up eyes, the woman who made everything better.

"Mom?" I choked on dry air, the sound coming out raspy and broken. My throat was literally on fire.

I wanted to tell her that, but Mom knows best, and already had a paper cup filled with water close by, guiding the straw to my mouth so I could take a sip.

I greedily sucked on the straw, desperate to drink as much water as I possibly could in one go.

"Easy, Spence," Mom warned, pulling away a little.

I sucked in a huge gulp of air, letting it all go down in one swoop. It burned, and as the water went through my esophagus and the oxygen dispersed to my lungs, I felt a peculiar pain shoot through my chest. I've noticed the pain before, but it used to be mostly numb. Now, it hurt, _a lot_.

"What happened?" It was the most obvious thing to ask and I hoped it would answer _all_ the questions swirling around faintly at the forefront of my mind. Like, why did I feel like crap? Why did my chest hurt? Where was I? Whose room was I in? Why were there so many scary looking equipment all around me? And why could I hear my heart beat in the form of a _beep_ and watch a monitor spiking in sync with it? And why did Mom look so worried? And _tired?_ And sitting here next to me, instead of working?

I watched her carefully, taking in a deep breath and letting it out in a languid sigh. A warmth intensified on my hand by means of a gentle squeeze. I felt increasingly oblivious to my surroundings.

"There was an incident, a couple of days ago," she started, and I could tell by her pained expression that it wasn't easy for her to go back there and relive whatever it was. She squeezed my hand again, gathering strength to let the spine-chilling words spill from her lips. "And you got shot."

I wanted to laugh. That couldn't be right, could it?

"The bullet went through your chest, splintering a rib and then lodged into your heart. It's out now, I mean, the bullet. It was a close call."

Mom was uncharacteristically explaining it all in layman's terms, and I admired how her brain could just switch off from all the medical jargon, like she was fluent in two languages and could even speak them combined.

But even in the easy language she was explaining this to me, it didn't really register. It all sounded so surreal and like it didn't happen to _me_. The only proof I had that there were truth in her words, in everything she was saying, was the constant electrifying pain I felt in my chest whenever I breathed in and out, and, judging by my surroundings, that I was in a hospital room.

I couldn't remember the so-called shooting, I didn't even know what day or month or _year_ it was.

* * *

The rise and fall of the waves was like a person breathing. I watched the ocean take a deep breath, swallowing the low tide with it, then, with a gentle push, spewed it all out onto the sand, against the pillars of the pier, letting it _breathe_.

The sand was cold underneath my bare feet, the tide coming in, occasionally touching my toes, too, but I didn't mind. How could I, when given the chance to sit here and admire the scenery, while I shouldn't have been here. It was a fluke, me still being alive. It was unfair – not that I regretted still being here – I just found it difficult to accept that in the span of four days, I lost my girlfriend, my best friend, two colleagues, and my journalist friend, Lily Zee. All by the hands of madmen with guns. And I would have been one of them, had it not been for the extremely accomplished and capable surgeons who had removed a sniper rifle bullet from my heart.

It still felt surreal.

But all I had to do was touch the still healing scar below my sternum to be reminded how very real and so damn difficult this was. Even after four weeks, I just couldn't wrap my head around it.

Sometimes I wished for the blissful moments back in hospital before Mom and Dad recounted everything that went down the week before I got shot – the trauma of that day having gently wiped the pain of losing Kelly. I kept asking where she was and why she didn't come to the hospital, until they had to break the news that Kelly was taken away from me too. The bullet didn't succeed, but _that_ news nearly did in killing me.

Now, five weeks after losing Kelly, four weeks after almost having died myself, I felt like I _did_ die a little inside. I felt lost and alone and just incredibly _sad_. I haven't been back to work, I hardly kept in touch with the other colleagues who both survived and wasn't there when it happened. I just couldn't, not yet.

I didn't know what was going to happen to our case, and I didn't really care.

All I wanted was my life back. Kelly, Sean, Joe, Harper, Lily – I wanted them back too. If I could just go back to the night Kelly and I had that fight, and told her _then_ , that I would quit, for her, then all of them would still have been alive.

Warm drops on my arm surprised me amidst the chilling water that had now moved up to my ankles. I was only wearing jeans and a tank top, barely suitable for early spring evenings. I haven't realized that I was cold, neither crying.

I decided to just let it be; I let the tears fall as much as it wanted, trying to let it all out. All I wanted was to let it out, the tears, the pain, the sadness.

By the time my eyes had dried up from tears, my entire body was wet from the surf, the tide having moved in quite substantially. I was waist deep in water, icy, cold water, and the moment I let it sink in, my breath hitched, my body unprepared for the shock of how cold it really was.

And that's how it ended for me; the short twenty five years I had tried to save the earth. Even surviving a gunshot for it.

Perhaps it was now the earth's turn to save me, as the tide took in my rigid body, frozen with shock, the cold, and a stopped heart.

It wasn't painful at all. Nothing hurt anymore. It was just cold. And alone and sad. But I was one with the earth now, and _that_ made me happy.

 _Spencer : 1, Earth : 1_

I considered it a win for both of us. A lucky draw.

* * *

 **Daisychains – YouthGroup**


	60. Ghost you know

**A/N: There's no excuse for leaving you all hanging, other than traveling and having an amazing time in Europe ;) But the itch to write has been nagging and where there's a will there's a way. Good ol' fashioned pen to paper is amazing - until your hand goes numb and you wish you'd charged your phone instead. Anyway, this story is not complete! A few more chapters to go, a lot could still happen!**

 **ToriDub - CH59 : You're quite right, there are a couple of intense chapters to follow, starting right here! I apologize once again for the long wait - there was so much to do before I left and then time just ran out. Hope this chapter doesn't disappoint! PS, yes, there are still a couple of theories that could work ;) Thanks for still reading and reviewing!**

 **BlueEyed - CH59 : I want to say I'm sorry (about the chapter), but I'm not. Like I mentioned in the author's note, it was the very first chapter I've written, and everything had to be perfectly orchestrated to lead up to that. It's been one heck of a journey and the best part is… it's not over quite yet! So am I sorry? No. I feel terrible about the long wait when I promised not to leave you guys hanging though. Thanks for still reading and reviewing!**

 **Dnmann - CH59 : Thank you very much :) It's been my best chapter yet, though I know what's to come could perhaps change that. Thank your for still reading and reviewing!**

 **TheDWall - CH59 : Noooooo! It's not over quite yet! Though it would have made a great (and unnerving) ending, come to think of it, I just, no, I can't just stop here. There's still a bit of story left for this huge fic of mine. Thank you for all the compliments though. I really appreciate it and it's really what keeps writers going. That and constructive criticism, it's the only way to learn! Man, I feel like that chapter would have been an interesting way to end things now. Shame on you! But keep on reading… please :) Thank you for still reading and reviewing!**

 **GirlsOnly - CH59 : Yes, there is definitely another chapter (here it is!) - and a couple more to come. I also have to apologize for taking so long, I'm currently traveling and though there are ways and means, sightseeing and touristy stuff is all everyone wants to do around here! Shees, can't a girl just write? ;) Anyway, you should be able to pick up some clues if you reread the story, also perhaps you'll find a lot of loose ends! Thus… this story can't be over just quite yet! Thank you for still reading and reviewing!**

 **Guest - CH59 : You were right to think that. You might not like this chapter too much, but like I mentioned to everyone, there is still a bit of story left to tell, so don't give up on me please! Thank you for still reading and reviewing!**

 **K1989 - CH59 : YES! You were so right that it frightened me and I had to write myself out of it, so much so that a whole couple of chapters had to be restructured after that! People were only supposed to find out in this chapter, but I did want to give away some clues so it wouldn't be too confusing when it was finally revealed. But yes, you were even right to the point as to** _ **how**_ **she died. Well, after Ashley shot her. Well done! Their past is still lingering in the last couple of chapters, maybe it's not a past but a future… I'm trying my absolute best not to spoil this one since you outed me in CH24! ;) Hope you enjoy the update! Thanks for still reading and reviewing!**

 **Anjela78 - CH59 : Thank you so much for the compliments and well wishes! I hope you enjoy the update, I'm sorry it took so long! Thank you for still reading and reviewing!**

 **And there were go… Enjoy the update!**

* * *

 **Ashley**

 **Ghost you know**

Heaven - or possibly hell - felt a lot better than I'd imagined.

Although it was completely dark around me, I was no longer afraid of the pain. I realized everything I'd gone through; every hit and every new file, every escape, every ghost and their right to be eternally unforgiving - all those things were borne out of fear.

Fear of what I could see, hear, smell… _feel_.

But here, in a darkness I shouldn't have felt comfortable in, I was okay. A painful throb clenched around my heart, but I figured despite that, I was okay.

Until I _wasn't_ , and noise slowly seeped into my ears, the smell of blood tingled my senses - and sensitive stomach - and the darkness became lighter behind closed eyelids.

Unlike all the previous times, the excruciating headaches and nausea never came when I finally came to. Even when I painfully recalled the details of that particular day, I didn't feel anything but remorse. I had no idea why this memory never creeped up on me. I was up on the roof of the hotel, offering me a clear view of Sean and Lily as they stepped out of the courthouse. I pulled the trigger twice, got up to make my escape, lost my balance - finger still on the trigger - and fired another shot.

The most lousy shot I've ever taken in my life.

My heart ached tortuously, and somewhat in nervous anticipation as my eyes finally focussed; first on the most beautiful face I'd ever seen - the piercing, raw frown not going unnoticed - to the barrel of my sniper rifle pointing tensely at me; right at _my_ forehead. It was _so_ close that I felt the edgy tremble radiating off the tip of the silencer.

Behind Spencer stood the other two ghosts, ghosts I had no idea how to get rid of; and now, sadly, Spencer was one of them. I recalled how I got into this situation to start with, ignoring the headache and heartache that came with it.

"Tell me it's not true," Spencer choked out tearfully.

As much as I wanted to lie to her, I knew this time I couldn't. A lump formed in my throat, causing Spencer to mistakenly take my silence as denial.

The tip of the silencer pressed into the firm, thin skin of my forehead, and I couldn't help but remember nauseatingly how it looked every time I pulled the trigger and watched it penetrate my targets' skulls, leaving them with no fighting chance whatsoever.

The worst I've ever seen was Madison; I was at such close range that the imprint of my handgun was still gravely visible.

The worst shot I've _taken_ , however, was staring right at me, waiting with trembling hands to give her some sort of explanation. _Any_ explanation for her not to shoot me.

My shoulders sagged, my eyes pleading for her to understand without me having to say it out loud. I didn't want to admit that I shot her. I didn't want to admit that she was never on my hitlist, that her untimely death was purely by accident. An accident that left her stuck like Aiden and Madison, with no way to send her back to wherever it was the other ghosts went.

Even if she understood that, I had no excuse for killing her friends, for killing Kelly. The absence of the nausea I should have felt whenever I came to, returned tenfold. Whatever contents were in my stomach burned up my throat and spewed out painfully.

I killed Kelly. The devil herself, who was Spencer's fiancee to be…

It was incredibly hard for me to understand how someone so amazing could ever be with someone so brazen such as Kelly.

But Spencer _loved_ her, was ready to give up everything for Kelly, and I took it all away from them.

Spencer threw a damp dish cloth at me to wipe my mouth, her other hand still firmly - despite the tremble - holding my rifle. It was disconcerting to see her index finger on the trigger.

"Spencer," I pleaded softly. I had _no_ idea where to begin, and had no guarantee that I would get out of this alive.

The pressure on my forehead increased, and my eyes shot up to find Spencer turning her head away from me. It was that moment when I realized that this situation, that what I've done, was irreparable. Spencer's beautiful blue eyes closed, a lone tear running hastily down her cheek.

"Aiden told me everything. But I need to know from you… I need to hear you say it, Ashley. Did you kill Kelly?" Her voice broke, breaking my heart in return. "Did you kill _me_?"

She refused to meet my gaze, and while I was suddenly overcome with great anger towards Aiden, I couldn't help but drop my head in pure shame.

The slight shift of my movement reverberated back to her hands, alerting Spencer; her emotionless eyes penetrating me with a cold, hard stare. The gun pressed even harder against my skull, her finger tapping three times on the trigger. The safety lock was off and it finally _truly_ hit me how much I destroyed other people's lives. How much I destroyed _her_ life, by lying and making her fall in love with a killer. A monster. Me.

It came out in a pathetic whimper, the lump in my throat making it impossible to speak. "Yes… I did."

There was a sharp intake of breath, sniff of a runny nose, and a river of tears running down a face I never deserved to daydream about.

Despite the pitiful look of an apology I offered her, Spencer was relentless. Her tone was so different from the one that begged me to stay awake and not die on her. Painfully different from the one that said _I love you_.

She cleared her raw throat, not quite able to conceal the pain I've caused her. "I took care of you. Day in and day out I was by your side, hoping, _praying_ that one day I could share a future with you. Even yesterday, when you returned from killing _more_ people, I treated your wounds, took care of you, praying once _again_ that you would survive. You made me…" Her voice caught in her throat and the conflict to say it out loud tore visibly at her. "You made me fall in love with you, Ashley."

My name escaped her lips with pure venom. It spread like a toxic snake-bite, numbing my limbs, freezing the blood in my veins.

The rest of her plea was desperate, as if she was trying to erase everything Aiden had told her, hoping that I would tell her it was all one big lie.

Sadly, it wasn't.

So many subtle things made sense now; the scar on her hand wasn't because of a dog, it was caused by the fall as her body hit the asphalt in the parking lot of the San Francisco Supreme Court.

The small, round, scar right below her sternum was because of my A7's deadly bullet, penetrating right into her already fragile heart.

Her cold hands, never quite warming up despite efforts to keep her warm. I recalled our days on the beach, perplexed about her weightless body, the sand never shifting as she sat down. No footprints left behind as we strolled from pier to pier.

But a lot of other things _didn't_ make sense, and I was unsure if Spencer would allow me to speak. I knew excuses wouldn't work, neither would apologies, but perhaps if I gave her something to think about, she'd relieve some of the aching pressure the silencer caused against my skull.

"I was in love with you too, Spencer. I _still_ am. But it feels like you've only got one side of this story, not even mine. That, and I have some questions of my own."

Her bitterness was devastating. Instead of pulling away, the metal lining of the silencer started digging through my skin, leaving a thin trail of blood running down my damaged cheek. Her finger was already pulling the trigger back halfway.

My eyes clenched shut and my heart stopped. "You don't have to do this," I whispered, almost inaudible. But the cliche echoed loud and embarrassingly through my ears, and I knew this was it. I was just pissing her off the more I spoke. The salty tears forced itself through shut eyelids, and my heart constricted in a vice grip, squeezing a final beat out of it. "I love you, Spencer."

It came out with my last sobbing breath, and for the first time since I became aware of my existence, I silently _begged_ for someone to pull the trigger on me.

It didn't matter anymore that it was Spencer, or _anyone_ I cared about. What mattered was that they didn't care enough to understand that I never wanted this. My existence came about in the middle of a job, my actions automatic as I tried every single day to figure out who I was.

And then that stupid, stupid drunk driver knocked me down, exposing me to the ghosts one by one. _My_ ghosts. _My_ doing. I didn't know who I was before, but Spencer gave me a chance to start over. She gave me a slither of hope to be a better person.

The Spencer I knew, with her mesmerizing blue eyes and silky blonde hair, the Spencer who was somewhat shy but beautiful despite that. Despite the fact that her girlfriend died. _That_ was the Spencer I selfishly wanted to remember.

Fear of dying took over as a silent _thwip_ froze my entire being, and then dizziness plummeted me into a complete void. There was nothing around me - no rifle pressed against my head, no labored breathing in front of me.

I wondered for a fleeting moment if this was how all my targets felt the moment the bullets penetrated their foreheads. At least there was no pain.

Just a wrecking heartache as I realized that Spencer had pulled the trigger.

* * *

 **Ghost you know - Lauren Hoffman**


	61. This Grudge

**A/N: Thank you all for your patience, I hope the long pause between updates hasn't discouraged you to keep on reading!**

 **dnmann – CH60 : Thank you! Hope you enjoy this one, we're so very close now ;)**

 **Southtrash – CH60 : You will get your closure, I promise! There's still a tiny bit of story to tell, so please hang tight ;)**

 **K1989 – CH60 : Don't feel bad! It's awesome that you figured it out and I'm grateful that even though I worked hard to derail everyone from realizing it, that you didn't say anything further even if you perhaps still knew where things could possibly be going. There's definitely still more, but the story is headed to its end (sadly). Hope you enjoy the update.**

 **ljh8706 – CH60 : I'm all about crazy plot twists, I'm pretty much sure everyone is wondering what on earth is going on in this head of mine! Anycase, I know that was a shocker, but… it was planned from the beginning and now the rest of the aftermath has to take its course. Hope you enjoy the update!**

 **ToriDub – CH60 : Lol, I was curious to see your reaction to that update! You should know by now this entire fic is a huge cliffhanger! I'm just sorry it's taking so long to get from one cliff to the other! But… here it is, some revelations… enjoy!**

 **SoNFan – CH60 : I'm sorry it took so long! Hope you enjoy the update!**

 **Anjela78 – CH60 : Awww, I'm sorry that you were crying! But it's not the end yet, I promise! There's still about 9 chapters to go after this one, and perhaps the ending will be a good one… Hope you are keeping well!**

 **Guest – CH60 : Thank you! I will definitely finish this fic; just had some things to deal with but I'm back ;) Hope you enjoy the update!**

* * *

 **Glen**

 **This Grudge**

"What's going to happen to her once they find her?"

My head whipped up towards the girl seated opposite my new desk, her voice quiet and pained and unlike I've ever heard Kyla speak before. I couldn't help the pity rising in my chest. There was no other way to feel about this situation; the past couple of weeks I've gotten to know her sparked something within me. Her dedication to find her sister despite the years that have passed by was admirable. I could relate even though my situation was completely different. In my case, Spencer could never come back. I often wondered if Kyla wished Ashley wasn't rather dead than the monster we found out she was. I didn't know what I'd do or how I'd feel if our roles were reversed.

"It's really up to Ashley, Kyla. If she puts up a fight…"

I didn't know why my thought process just automatically went to the worst possible scenario. I couldn't imagine Ashley Davies handing herself in; people her caliber were groomed and trained for years to never leak any information, never cave during interrogations, never give up. Even if it would cost them their lives. I haven't dealt with marksmen before, but I went through rigorous interrogation training both as interrogator and interrogatee, I spent enough time with Clay to learn how people were conditioned not to betray their company.

"But if she doesn't? Please Glen, I beg you, just five minutes. You have to ask them if I can just have five minutes. It doesn't even have to be alone, I just…"

The despair in her voice was heartbreaking. I knew I was making promises I'd probably not be able to keep, but I owed Kyla my best effort to grant her this. Even though she stole that photograph - information she was not privy of - it was still thanks to her that we knew who to look for. I doubted we'd have found the link in the aftermath of the riots that happened in 9th Division.

"I get it, Kyla, I really do. Look –"

"Carlin. Miss Woods. Step into my office, please?"

Captain Tanner appeared extremely tense, but when his eyes landed on Kyla, I could see he wasn't going to betray her trust. He wasn't going to do this the Feds way; he was going to handle this situation the _right_ way.

I nodded to Kyla and we both got up, following him into his spacious new office. Everything looked different but so much the same. There were no visible reminders of the drama that ensued in our home just a couple of weeks ago. The damage had all been repaired save for the lives that were lost. _Those_ reminders were honored on a special wall; the pain still lodged deep in our hearts and would possibly never be healed.

Carlos pulled a chair out for Kyla and we all sat down in unison, sharing nervous energy as Captain Tanner slipped inside and closed the door behind him. All eyes were on him as he stepped in front of his desk and chose to lean back against it instead of sitting down in his intimidating chair.

"It's good to have you back, Carlin. Obviously not under the best circumstances, but it is what it is." Captain Tanner offered a small smile and then his attention shifted to the most important person in the room.

"Miss Woods –"

"Please, call me Kyla," she interrupted politely.

"Kyla. It takes a lot of balls to do what you've done, and on behalf of 9th Division, California states, and the country, we thank you and salute you. Now, I understand your wish to see Miss Davies once brought into custody, and I can promise you from our side we will do everything in our power to make that request possible. I have to remind you though that bringing in Ashley Davies is a joint effort with the FBI, and though 9th Division is fully committed to this case, there are certain aspects we have no control over."

I watched Kyla nod in understanding, her features hopeful and full of anticipation as our captain addressed her.

"Now I know you've had lengthy discussions with Detective Carlin regarding Miss Davies' file, but due to the nature of this case I also want Carlos to sit with you and go over everything."

Kyla took a deep breath and was about to protest, but surprisingly stopped herself and then nodded in agreement.

Her intelligence and understanding stirred familiar unprofessional feelings within me.

"Detective Carlin, while Miss Woods and Carlos go over the case file, you and I need to discuss some things and there's also someone waiting to see you. We don't have a lot of time before the Feds get here, so meet me back in my office in half an hour?"

* * *

 _"_ _Danielle?"_

I closed the glass door of the small conference room behind me, allowing Danielle Miller to leap into my arms for a bone-crushing hug. She was smiling but by the time her head rested on my shoulder, I could feel the tears seeping through my button down shirt.

We stood in silence for a minute until she calmed down and settled back into a swiveling chair, her frame appearing small in the large office furniture. She's lost a lot of weight due to the kidnapping saga.

"I'm really so glad you're okay. I'm sorry I checked out," I apologized softly, wishing I'd been here to offer her comfort the day she was found.

Danielle smiled bravely and reached for my hand, giving it a tight squeeze. "It's okay, I understand, Glen. It's just, it's good to see a friendly face. It's good to see you."

"Believe me, it's good to see you too." I eyed her carefully, recognizing the signs of fear, signs of suppressed knowledge. She wasn't just here to show face.

"She's not a bad person. I know I told a different story on TV, I know she's a supposed assassin, but she came to _save_ me, Glen."

It took me a second to catch up and realize what – _who_ – Danielle was talking about. I snorted in disbelief. "Ashley Davies? A good person?"

"You have to listen to me, Glen," Danielle urged, and suddenly I realized there was a huge responsibility on 9th Division, on _me_ , to get to Ashley Davies before the Feds did. Apparently we _didn't_ know everything about the mysterious hot assassin quite yet.

"Dan Miller was the one who orchestrated my kidnapping. He had his men follow me after I dropped the kids at school, and John came by every night to get information out of me for that stupid case that's still hanging in the air. That girl came to rescue me. She knew Sean."

None of this made sense. I didn't doubt Danielle's words for a second, and understood why she couldn't say anything on national TV. Exposing Dan Miller and John Paxton in the wake of her kidnapping and their deaths would have been the end of her and her family. But Ashley Davies having known Sean, and saving Danielle? Something didn't sound right.

"Dani…" I wanted to voice my concern over this, get more facts, get more Intel on Davies. But Danielle glared at me, daring me not to believe her.

"I… I… fuck, Danielle. This is so confusing," I breathed out, my hands clutching into my hair. I wasn't allowed to share any case information with her, but in this instance I had no idea what else to do. "She's wanted for multiple hits, Danielle. She's an _assassin_. She killed Dan's kid. I've got her sister in interrogation – it came out that she'd been missing since she was seventeen – disappeared right after prom. She's a cold-blooded killer, Dani."

"Look," she sighed, closing her eyes briefly. "I understand. I understand the situation, and the facts, and from the law side of things, I really do. And I'm not saying what she's done is right. I'm just telling you the truth of what happened that night. She wasn't the reason I was there, she's the reason I'm _alive_ today. She claimed to know Sean, and she risked her life to save mine. Dan _tortured_ her. He referred to her as _agent_ Davies and kept asking who sent her. You have to look into this, please, I _beg_ you. Don't let the Feds take her. You know as well as I do what they're going to do to her."

Her pleading didn't resolve anything, neither did it help me make any sense of the bloody mess Ashley Davies had created. "I'll have to talk to Tanner about this, you understand that, right?"

"I'll tell him myself if you need me to. There are really bad people out there, Glen. But that girl is not one of them."

* * *

Six degrees of separation.

That was what Danielle's first _official_ statement had bullied me into.

How was I supposed to make the link between Ashley Davies and Sean Miller if someone as close as Sean's _wife_ didn't even know who Ashley was? How was I supposed to make the link while I myself had been a close family friend of the Millers since high school – and I've never met _or_ heard of Ashley Davies before? I definitely would have remembered if Sean had mentioned the hot agent. We compared notes all the time.

So where did this mystery girl fit in?

I stared at the large whiteboard in front of me, the web of connections tangled in an unsatisfying, painful, mess. It wasn't easy to see my own face up there. Or Spencer's. Or Sean's, Lily's, everyone at the law firm. Everyone we knew and grew up with.

"Carlin, the Feds are here. Cover up."

I nodded as Captain Tanner quickly closed the door of the ops room we'd dedicated to this case – that _9_ _th_ _Division_ has dedicated to the case.

There was _another_ dedicated room, with only copies of Ashley Davies' file, and an electronic version of the photograph Kyla had _borrowed_ from us. She was safely hidden away in an overnight cell, while Danielle was escorted to get her family to safety.

I flipped the board and quickly closed the manila folders spread all over the conference table, stacking them onto one heap before shoving them into a cabinet. I didn't want to lock the door and have to explain why it was locked, or worse, to open it and explain the case files.

Everything looked normal, like I hadn't been racking my brain for an hour to come up with any clues how Sean could possibly have known Ashley Davies.

I slipped out of the room and stopped by my desk to grab a tie from my drawer, trying to look as composed as I possibly could be under the confusing circumstances. Though I couldn't wait to compare notes with the Feds – despite being aware they never shared everything – I wanted to get back to the history of Sean and Ashley.

Captain Tanner, Carlos, and four agents we've dealt with plenty of times were chatting casually by the time I sat down in the cramped conference room. It felt incredibly divided with the Feds on one side of the table while the three of us were seated opposite them, but things would never change. We were seldom _truthfully_ on the same side.

"Right, gentlemen."

Agent Smith cleared his throat and switched on the large TV screen, the FBI's files already uploaded for the briefing. I regarded the balding man, appreciating his leadership skills as he stood from his chair and made his way to the end of the conference table, standing close to the TV, fidgeting with a small presentation remote doubling up as a stress reliever in his hand.

"Suspect, twenty five years of age. White female, five foot three, shoulder length brunette with brown eyes. Known as Ashley Davies. Armed and extremely dangerous. Last known confirmed location: Mountain View, west of San Jose. Lost her headed towards Oakland Bay on the bridge. What can you tell us about our suspect?"

The question was directed at me, and I couldn't help but wonder what they already knew. If they'd known she was some sort of agent all along. Perhaps she was a rogue agent. Or even one of their own. All I knew was that at this point in time, the Feds couldn't be trusted with what we had learnt in the past twenty four hours.

"Reported missing at the age of seventeen, the night after her high school prom. We've interrogated the mother several times without luck, she wasn't too fazed about finding her daughter. There's very little background history, I don't know if you want to give a try at the mother – _if_ you can find her."

I slid a photograph with accompanying contact details of Christine Davies towards the seated agents, hoping they could give the woman a bit of a scare if they could finally track her down. There were too many questions regarding bad parenting and disregard for her daughter's life that were still left unanswered; perhaps this heartless woman would show some kind of remorse for the sad way Ashley's life had turned out.

"Anything else?" Agent Smith prompted, his eyes narrowing as he scanned Captain Tanner and Carlos's faces carefully. We'd barely given them anything to work with.

"Yes," Captain Tanner cleared his throat.

I swallowed hard, trying my best to keep a straight face as my superior spoke up. It was so difficult to keep on trusting people on your side when everyone was under pressure and started caving.

"As you also know the suspect's half sister came in to assist with the public broadcast when you found the abandoned Camaro. We've received no leads since then, and though the sister pursued the missing person's case, she's had little interest since finding out the truth about the suspect."

Poker face.

A helpful industry trait skillfully mastered at the mere age of fifteen thanks to my genius father and his love for the card game.

While my insides screamed to think about Kyla hidden away as a convict in an overnight cell, my outer being had to stay composed and act as if I'd only ever seen Kyla Woods once in my life.

"Oh yes, the broadcast. I don't particularly agree with my superior that it was the best move, but what's done is done. Do you have a contact sheet?"

I cringed inwardly as Carlos slid a photograph with attached details towards them. I hated that Kyla had to get involved in this – that the Feds would go to New York and look for her, scare her friend, her clients. Even though she consented, I wished I could have protected her from them.

Of course they'd never find her there, it would take them a couple of days to track her all the way back to LA, but that short time was all we needed to try and figure out who exactly Ashley Davies was.

This was the one time I had to accept that we appeared incompetent to the Feds. We definitely played the part as Agent Smith sighed and turned back to the TV screen, ever so reluctant to share their information with us. We were lucky to be kept in the loop, since Ashley Davies didn't even seem to be in LA anymore.

With the press of a button, a static map appeared on screen, depicting her trail of destruction through California. She'd been identified in Long Beach, in LA, then upstate in Prunedale where they found her Camaro and some compromising equipment, and unfortunately for her she got caught on camera and by the store staff in a bike shop south of San Francisco.

Ashley Davies didn't come out of it all unscathed, it seemed. Agent Smith continued to a video clip of our suspect in the bike shop, where it was apparent that someone had caused her extreme harm.

Danielle's words about Dan Miller torturing her rang in my ears, and I could only hope that the Feds had come to their own conclusions about Ashley's injuries.

It was difficult to tear my eyes from the screen, I took in as much detail as possible; Ashley's composure, her limited movements, her facial expressions. Those were the hardest, since her cheek was completely busted open and she looked like she was in a lot of pain.

Then there were snippets of aerial footage as they spotted her racing through the streets of San Francisco, following her all the way to the Bay Bridge where she had disappeared.

This was already two days ago, and we all knew deep down that Ashley Davies was as good as gone.

"We've got some theories about the direction she's headed in, but there's little facts to back anything. Logic tells me she's headed further up north towards Canada – easy way to disappear for good if she gets across the border. We're hoping that she's not changing to an eastern direction; as we all know Nevada, Utah and Colorado is the worst place to look for someone."

I found myself agreeing with Agent Smith and wondered for a moment how much effort the Feds were going to put into this case. They were under a lot of pressure after the passing of Dan Miller, but not knowing the whereabouts of Ashley Davies meant that a huge amount of resources were going to have to go into finding her. I knew of a couple of local stations that were going to be pissed with the Feds if they had to allocate staff to the Davies case.

"We've received orders from the White House to allocate as much resources to this case as possible, across the entire States. Davies is on a path of political destruction and if she's not planning to hide, then her next move could possibly be to get to DC."

Political destruction? I wasn't sure if the small circle of political scum she'd taken out could be considered such a threat, but it was definitely worth looking into. I made a mental note to add the motive to my whiteboard, wondering even more how Sean was involved in all of this. Theories were running wild in my mind – theories that I didn't ever want to consider. Not where Sean was involved. And definitely not Spencer.

"I think it would be worthwhile to consider looking into contacts in New York, those areas. Perhaps the half-sister does know something. Or maybe if we could track down the mother," Agent Pierce suggested.

He was still fairly new at this, but I couldn't appreciate his input more. If we could get the Feds to concentrate on the east, it would give us some time to delve deeper into motive and the links we had. Kyla would just have to stay put – perhaps we'd get her friend to LA before the Feds found her for questioning. Making civilians lie to authorities was not our forte.

"I agree. I definitely don't want to rule out the possibility of the sister being able to assist. There has to be some way we can get more background info on Davies. We've got forensics on the scene in the port, they're doing an intense investigation to find us some DNA or fingerprints. In the meantime, local stations will be briefed to set up posts and blockades."

"Agent Smith, I understand that we're basically out of jurisdiction since the last known location was San Francisco, but I would like to offer our continued support in this case if we can. Detectives Pena and Carlin are extremely invested to help bring Davies in."

I haven't even considered the fact that we would be excluded from future briefings since LA was too much of a hotspot for Ashley Davies to return, but Captain Tanner's request reminded me that the Feds had the worst upper hand when it came to authority.

Agent Smith, to my utter relief, didn't even blink before he nodded in agreement. "Absolutely, we need all the help we can get. I'd like if your detectives can assist with a more detailed profile for Davies, since your missing persons records indicate that Davies was born and raised in LA. We will gladly re-allocate detectives to your department to assist with other cases while the two of you focus on this case. It is extremely important, urgent, and a matter of national interest that we bring Davies in. _Alive_ , if possible."

His final words were all I needed to feel a great amount of tension disappear from my neck and shoulders. It meant that no bounty has been set, and that no-one was allowed to get trigger-happy if they happened to spot Ashley Davies.

We still had a chance to grant Kyla her wish.

* * *

"It just doesn't make sense. Sean would never associate himself with people who broke the law. He spent his entire career building a case against Polit-Enterprises, politicians who broke the law. Why would he-"

I froze midsentence as Captain Tanner nodded with an expression of pity on his face. He had the same theory I avoided ever since Agent Smith declared Ashley's motive to be of political significance.

"No, there's no way. Cap, he was an honest man. He would never do that to his family, to _my_ family."

Bile rose in my throat as I thought of the possibility that Sean may have contracted Ashley Davies to take out Dan and John. There were too many loose ends to tie it together – too much time has passed since Sean's death and the massacre we currently had on our hands.

Even Sasha Miller's death – she was murdered a year after Sean and Spencer had been awarded an appeal to take Polit-Enterprises down. There was no way Sean would stoop that low despite numerous attempts from Dan Miller to intimidate and scare the families of all his staff.

The thought of Sasha Miller's execution suddenly triggered a faint memory, something I'd never given any more thought to since the unraveling of Ashley Davies' identity.

"I need to check something. Is there any way we can get access to case files in New York?"

The frown on Captain Tanner's face reminded me that I'd never told him about the thought of coincidence when I heard over the news that Boz Anderson's execution had been done the very same way Sasha Miller's has. There was even a suspicion about the high spec military rifle used for the crimes.

"You need to give me more than that, Carlin. Any file requests out of our jurisdiction will immediately raise alarm with the Feds."

A sickening feeling rose in my throat as details of another unsolved case triggered something in my memory.

Sean Miller and Lily Zee.

It may have been a bank robbery gone awry, but there was something peculiar about the precise shots to Sean and Lily's foreheads.

Thousands of bullet casings were collected from the scene of that horrific day, and while police put all the blame on the perpetrators who robbed the bank, there have been reports of the same military spec rifles used.

They found an A7 rifle bullet in Spencer's heart.

All the color drained from my face and I found myself needing to sit down, the realization, the pain, the loss, the clues that have been staring us right in the face, hitting me hard.

"Carlin? Are you okay? What's going on?"

"It was her," I murmured, my hands taking a slight tremble as I fished for Spencer's file.

I grabbed Sean's and the thin one for Lily too, opening them with fear of what I would find. I rumbled through the pages of each file until I found the ballistics reports, and finally pushed it towards my Captain.

He only had to take a brief look at it to know what I was trying to tell him.

I was going to throw up.

"Go take a breather, Carlin. Get some ginger ale and grab me a coffee while you're at it. I'll take a look at the striations and markings and see if there's a similarity, then we take it from there."

I didn't trust myself to speak in fear of what would come out of my mouth, so with a quiet nod I got up and quickly left the ops room, avoiding Carlos, avoiding Kyla sitting at my desk, avoiding everyone in my path until I safely made it to the men's room to let the bile spill from my mouth.

* * *

"My parents… do you think they could be in danger?"

I watched closely as Captain Tanner sighed and ran a hand through his hair, his face showing the same exhaustion we all felt.

It was already one in the morning and none of us had had any break since the discovery of more deaths at the hands of Ashley Davies.

I was both ecstatic and incredibly confused about the fact that I could finally find closure in Spencer's death, to put her case to rest, to ease my family out of the pain of their loss. Though Ashley was still on the run, it just felt _lighter_ to finally know who ruthlessly took my sister's life.

But the _why_ was still lingering in agony. Spencer didn't deserve to die – she was fighting a good fight. She was a good person. How _dared_ Ashley Davies take her from us?

"I'm not sure, Carlin. A lot of time has passed, but we can't rule out the fact that our suspect was last seen in San Francisco."

"Maybe we should go there. The three of us," Carlos suggested, making his way to the TV screen in the ops room. The digital ballistic images displayed all the proof we needed that Ashley Davies was in fact responsible for Sean, Lily and Spencer's deaths. We were also certain that she killed Boz Anderson, and I had a suspicion that Kelly's death could have been linked too, since she was left with a gaping hole in her forehead.

It was a sickening discovery.

These were all people I knew, people who were practically _family_.

"What about Kyla?" I found myself asking. As much as I wanted to inform her of our discovery, I felt somewhat reluctant. My promise to give Kyla her time with Ashley had expired the moment I found out the bitch had killed my sister.

If anything, _I_ was going to pull a trigger on _her_.

She had messed with the wrong family.

"Let me handle Miss Woods," Captain Tanner offered. "Pena, book the first flight out at 6AM for the two of you. Carlin, go see your parents, inform them that we're on the track of the suspect, and make sure they're safe. Stay there until I've dealt with updates to the Feds, I don't want them to know about this just yet."

"Sure thing, Cap."

I was about to follow Carlos out of the ops room when I found a hand on my shoulder. Turning around to face our captain, I could see the sorrow in his eyes.

"I'm proud of you, Glen. You've done an outstanding job on this case and I know it's not easy because of your loss. We'll get Davies. I promise you."

* * *

 **This Grudge – Alanis Morissette**


	62. Angel

**A/N: We're getting closer… ;) Hope you enjoy this chapter!**

 **TheDWall – CH61 : I'm glad you're liking all the loose ends coming together :) With regards to the Carlins and Ashley… here's a chapter you've been waiting for! Sorry for leaving you on the edge with Ashley and Spencer – it just means you'll have to keep on reading ;) Thanks for the review!**

 **dnmann – CH61 : Thank you ;) It's about time the plot completely unfolds itself! Hope you enjoy the update, and thanks for the review!**

 **BlueEyed – CH61 : I feel so honored to hear readers getting excited about the chapter updates. I'm glad you liked the chapter and hope this one will be equally satisfying. Thanks for the review!**

 **SoNFan – CH61 : It only took a week! Enjoy the update and thanks for the review!**

 **southtrash – CH61 : The closure is close, so very close ;) Too close, actually. I'm getting really sad about the fact that this fic is nearing its end. Danielle had to come forward, Glen had to find out, the Carlins definitely deserve their closure – at some point lol. Enjoy the update and thanks for the review!**

 **GirlsOnly – CH61 : Haha imagine that, it would be a cool movie lol. But also very disturbing, even if I had to say so myself. Loved the wordplay on your review. Enjoy the update and thanks for the review!**

* * *

 **PS, don't listen to the song while you read this chapter. If you're soppy like me then grab for tissues. Yes, I'm weird like that – I get some odd stares sometimes when I sit and write and sniff and sob like a lunatic.**

 **In other words, listen to the song while reading this chapter. And if you're soppy like me, grab the tissues ;p**

* * *

 **Arthur**

 **Angel**

"Are you one hundred percent sure?"

"Dad, we've gone over the forensic reports, the markings of the bullet that hit Spence came out of the same chamber of the A7 that killed Dan Miller's men, the same bullets that went through his foot, the same bullets that killed his daughter. It was her."

I've always wondered how disbelief worked when people were in shock, until my little girl got shot, until she died. It was a feeling I couldn't quite describe; the news sank in but my brain refused to accept it. It rang in my ears until the only thing left to do was let it settle, let it seep through the process of thinking and comprehending and allowing it to be stored in short term and eventually long term memory.

Like Spencer's untimely death, the news of the girl who supposedly killed her was just too surreal to believe. I couldn't quite let it penetrate my brain and allow it to settle.

"Dad, do you know her? Danielle said Sean knew her. Apparently she was the one who saved Danielle. It doesn't make sense because she killed Sean. Did Spence know her?"

The questions were endless.

Part of me was relieved that Paula wasn't home yet, though I was feeling panic settle in about my family's safety. She wasn't going to take this news well.

"No… we don't know her – I mean, not before anyway. We treated her, though –"

I watched Glen's eyes go wide and a sick kind of excitement washed over his face. "What? Is she still at the hospital?" He was already out of his chair, grabbing towards his gun holster.

Just looking at it made me feel queasy.

"Glen, we treated her a couple of months ago. A drunk driver knocked her down – she was in quite bad shape."

I felt an incredible sadness washing over me when I thought about Ashley Davies. The things she was going through, the brain injury treatment, it all made so much more sense now. She had grown a conscience somewhere along the line, but listening to Glen's account of things, it seemed the coldness returned and she went back to killing people. No wonder she stopped coming for treatment without a word.

It was daunting to know she sat in my office day in and day out, staring at photos of my family she'd destroyed. How was it possible that any person could be so heartless? We saved her life, and though it was under oath to do so, had I known she killed my little girl I would have pushed a scalpel into her heart myself.

The tears were on my cheeks before I even realized – Glen held out a handkerchief, his features suddenly apologetic. "I'm sorry dad. I –" He sighed and sat back down. "I just want to find her and make her pay."

"I know you do, son. We all do. It's just a little too much to take in right now."

"Can I get you anything? A tot of whiskey?"

"No," I sighed, resting my head in my hands, elbows on my knees. All this time… all this time I wanted to know who did it, and why. We had our suspicions about the robbery gone wrong, we had our suspicions about Kelly's death, and yet, couldn't ever put two and two together. But now that I knew I just wished I didn't. It would have been easier to keep believing what we've been told despite our doubts. It would have been easier to let go of the crushing pain at some point, knowing Spencer achieved a milestone that day and died kind of a hero for their victory.

It would have been easier to believe that her life was taken away too soon by a botched robbery, rather than by an assassin because she fought for what was right. Killed by a girl who was the same tender age as Spencer herself.

How would Paula ever forgive me for convincing Spencer to go to court that day?

Worse, how could I ever forgive _myself_?

* * *

"Mommy, Daddy, look!"

The camera shook as I turned around, my focus shifting from Glen throwing hoops to Spencer prancing around in her newly acquired neon pink tutu.

I heard Paula laugh behind me, but her voice was laced with some concern as she regarded our energetic six-year old. "Spence, sweetie, don't get dirt on your dress – it's for the concert, remember?"

"I know," Spencer pouted, but her face lifted as Glen came to inspect why he wasn't being filmed anymore. "Glen, look! I'm a princess!"

Typical of an eight-year old, Glen scoffed. "You're such a girl."

Undeterred by his attitude, Spencer held her chin up and swirled around until her feet started stumbling.

"Careful, honey."

Paula had always been so protective of Spencer, and I loved that about her. Though Glen was also still young and often got himself hurt, he was showing signs of strength – physically and emotionally – that was admirable for an eight-year old. I had so much confidence that he was going to turn out an astounding young man, and couldn't be more proud.

Spencer, on the other hand, sometimes had us worry. She was confident for her age, loved dancing, and it was hard getting her out of the tutus that just never seemed to last. But there was a growing hesitance whenever she was around other kids. Perhaps she was just shy – the complete opposite from Glen, who made friends a lot easier.

We were thus quite excited about the newest addition to our beautiful family, who was about to arrive – I checked my watch in nervous excitement – pretty soon.

"Daddy, can I hold the camera when our new brother arrives?" Spencer's shy demeanor was already showing, but I had a feeling she would get along just fine with another older brother.

"We can't make him nervous on his first day, sweetie. Maybe another day, okay?"

The camera was soon forgotten; left on the picnic bench recording unknowingly as the white sedan pulled up into the driveway, a nervous boy staring out as we stepped closer to greet him.

Jane, a social worker, swiftly got out of the car and opened the back door, revealing Clay with his large suitcase and a handful of science books in his lap.

"Clay, this is your new family. You remember Arthur, right?"

He nodded shyly and got out of the car, completely ignoring the adults as Glen and Spencer approached him.

We held our breaths – this moment was more important than anything else – we were hoping we'd raised our children well enough to be open and welcoming to kids who needed help.

"Hello, I'm Glen. Do you want to play basketball?"

Clay nodded eagerly, but hesitated for a second as he regarded Spencer. Finally extending a hand out towards her, he introduced himself first. "I'm Clay. What's your name?"

And that was the icebreaker.

* * *

While Glen grew to become a very popular young boy, never without his friends who spent endless hours playing basketball in our front yard, Spencer and Clay quickly grew close and spent a lot of time in the garden, inspecting insects and learning about plants and animals.

It was evident that they'd been digging up the garden all day when Paula scolded them for stepping into the house with muddy feet and dirt under their nails. That wasn't really the problem – we were in a frenzy to get the kids ready for our yearly family photoshoot.

This one was extra special; Clay had settled nicely over the past couple of months and seemed excited to be included in something so important. And we wanted that, we wanted him to feel part of the family, because he _was_.

The photographer arrived and while setting up her equipment, Paula had Spencer and Clay cleaned up and redressed – the tutu back on after a huge tantrum.

We could only laugh and finally readied ourselves for the chaos of photo-taking.

Despite that, it was a memorable day, and the print was one of my absolute favorites, immediately going up in my office.

* * *

For her tenth birthday, we arranged an outing to the local zoo with Spencer's classmates.

It was her favorite place to be, and soon attracted friends who had similar interests.

They spent more time with the animals than the rest of the class who were more interested in the cake and sweets and refreshments.

It was that particular day that I picked up on that odd hesitance again, and it became clear that Spencer found it easier to talk to girls than the boys.

She was at that age where boys teased because they liked someone, and for the beautiful girl she was, there was a lot of attention. Attention she fought against and ignored, pushing all her energy into animals and the handful of girl friends she had.

It continued like that until she was fourteen, and while Glen had an abundance of girlfriends and Clay shyly started dating, Spencer had yet to give in to any boy who was interested in her.

I was apprehensive but Paula seemed at ease with Spencer's behavior, assuring me to give her time while she discovered herself and came to terms with her identity. I didn't know what she meant by that until we were settled in LA two years later and the kids came home from a party one night, Spencer in tears because she was terrified about how we'd react to her kissing a girl she'd apparently had a huge crush on.

She got her heart broken of course, but for me, as a parent, I was just relieved to finally understand what had caused her odd behavior for so long.

The relief was short-lived as I realized we had bigger problems on our hands now; our teenagers were going to steal each other's girlfriends.

Paula laughed at my statement until her eyes teared up, but comforted Spencer until she calmed down enough to have some coffee with us and we could reassure her that we didn't love her any less for liking girls.

In fact, her admission just brought the three of us closer together, and I found both Paula and myself becoming even more protective of her, secretly drawing out details from Glen about every single date she had until she finally left for college, and we had to accept that we couldn't protect her from every heartache she encountered anymore.

We had to let our girl grow up, and it was so hard not to have her in the house anymore.

* * *

It got even harder when Spencer met Kelly and there was nothing we could do to convince our daughter that the raven-haired girl wasn't right for her.

Spencer fought hard for her, forcing us to look for a side in Kelly that we never quite got to see, but she apparently did.

We had to accept that Kelly was possibly a permanent fixture in our lives, and the day she asked for permission to ask our daughter's hand in marriage, it felt like the end of the world.

Spencer was at the brink of making her mark in the world, her career blooming as an environmental lawyer. I was so proud of her for her accomplishments. She wasn't that scared, shy girl anymore. She was brave, _so_ brave, in fact, that they'd taken on the scummiest politicians and refused to give up on their cause despite empty threats and scare tactics.

The downside of where she was headed, however, was having Kelly in her life. Kelly who had accomplished quite a lot for herself too – something to be equally proud of – except that we couldn't exactly be proud of the woman who were influenced and built her empire by the very same people Spencer was standing up to.

It was a huge conflict of interest in their careers, and it seeped right into their personal lives, so much so that Spencer had to sprint out her frustrations every morning we were just supposed to be jogging and enjoying precious time together. Yet, she still fought for Kelly.

It continued like that for a couple of months until that fateful afternoon. They took Kelly straight to the morgue; she died mere seconds after the bullet penetrated her skull.

Life got confusing soon after.

And painful. So, so painful.

* * *

"Dad… _dad_ …"

The iPad sat forgotten in my lap, continuing to play a movie clip of Spencer up on the stage, pre-school, dancing her heart out in that neon pink tutu.

I've seemed to have lost track of what I was watching, quite surprised as Glen pulled me from memories that were so precious to me.

I looked up and stared for a second, unfocused, trying to gather my senses and rid myself of the lump in my throat.

Glen offered me a tissue, and once again I had to wipe endless tears off my face. I was past the stage where crying in front of my son felt embarrassing.

I was too broken to care.

The luxurious hotel couch dipped next to me as Glen sat down, offering a supportive squeeze to my shoulder. From the corner of my eye I noticed him peek at the movie clip, and immediately his own eyes teared up, forcing him to look away abruptly.

His jaw clenched tightly and his throat bobbed as he swallowed continuously, but the tears came down nonetheless.

"I miss her so much, dad," he finally cried out, lunging himself into my arms. He shook against me as the memories tore through him. "I miss those days, where all she did was dance in that tutu, and then became annoying, and then hung out with Clay all the time. I miss teasing her about liking girls. I miss her support when I was unsure what I wanted out of life. And now she's not even here to be proud like I know she would've been. I don't understand why they got to save her only for her to be taken away from us."

"I know, son." I had no words of comfort to offer, feeling at a loss myself. I had really thought that finding the perpetrator would bring us closure, but the discovery that it had been Ashley Davies, a girl who seemed as lost as Spencer had once been, just poured salt onto a large wound that would never quite heal.

* * *

The news had an undesired effect on what was left of my family.

We were stuck in a hotel, but no matter how luxurious it was, it felt like there wasn't enough space for the three of us.

Paula refused to partake in any investigation or listening to details, and I could understand her bitterness and the pain that was still too close to the surface.

It divided us a little; I'd gotten over the initial shock and found myself wanting to dig into the history and workings of the mind of Ashley Davies, while Paula detested discussing her feelings about the girl she'd saved.

I was fixated on the handful of gruesome photographs; a frightening amount of people all executed the same way – with a bullet to the forehead.

It was odd, though, that Spencer wasn't killed the same way. It gave me false hope that Ashley _didn't_ pull the trigger on my little girl. I'd easily overlook all the other lives she'd taken – I just didn't want this to be _her_ doing.

It was a strange feeling.

I tried to remember the details of her hallucinations – or ghosts, as she'd described them – and there was genuine remorse about the nightmares, reliving how she'd executed one by one. It was nauseating to discover the photographs I was looking at was the very people she'd described as the _ghosts_.

The way Ashley had acted, the way she nearly took her own life because of the nightmares, the way she struggled to come to terms with what she was while recovering some memory after her accident; there was just too much emotion and guilt – I couldn't ignore the fact that she was indeed, sorry.

I recalled her staring at the family portrait, a faint smile on her face, and I remembered wondering if she was staring at Spencer, wondering what it would have been like if the two of them could have met.

Despite Ashley's struggles, I found myself thinking on numerous occasions at the time that they would've made a cute couple. Ashley was far better behaved and seemed a much better candidate to have asked for my daughter's hand in marriage. Despite her struggles, I knew deep down that we would have been able to help her. And my brave girl, with her huge heart and fierce willpower, would have been perfect for Ashley.

If only she hadn't taken our little angel from us…

* * *

Angel – Sarah Mclachlan


	63. Mothers of the disappeared

**A/N: So… surprise!**

 **Paula**

 **Mothers of the disappeared**

It had become such a normal thing for me; witnessing mothers and fathers and family and friends rushing into the emergency room, frantically asking about their loved ones. It had become such a normal thing to be the bearer of bad news when loved ones didn't make it.

I was used to seeing gruesome scenes; blood spilling everywhere, limbs out of place, bones sticking out, organs exposed. Then there were the less horrid yet serial killers; strokes, heart attacks, viruses, unknown causes.

As a medical professional we somehow had to learn to protect ourselves from falling apart every time we couldn't save a life.

But nothing could ever prepare us, nothing could ever protect us from the pain to witness our own children being rushed into the emergency room.

When he was seventeen, Glen tore a ligament in his knee playing basketball. Clay lost his eyebrows at the age of thirteen and nearly burnt down the house with a science experiment gone wrong. Spencer fell out of a tree when she was nine, trying to build a house for a squirrel, breaking an arm.

It was terrifying receiving them in the emergency room, only to find out that I wasn't allowed to help them. I could still hear their cries, all these years later, as I had to stand by and let my colleagues tend to them.

But they were kids, healed well, injuries long forgotten as they grew older and more cautious.

Then came heartaches, which couldn't be patched up with band-aids or bandages or heavy white casts. We had to stand by as parents and just support our children the best we could, praying each time that the next would be the last, and that they'd find the love they so much deserved.

Glen became engrossed in his career, struggling to find someone who could understand the long hours and dedication to help – and sometimes save – other people. It didn't really seem to faze him; he'd had plenty of girls in his lifetime and I was sure his needs got taken care of _somehow_. Not that I wanted to even think about that – he was my firstborn and all I wanted to see was my detective son succeed the way he was currently doing.

Clay had found love in Chelsea, and we were so sure he'd be coming back from medical deployment in Iraq to pop the question and start a family with the girl we'd all fallen in love with. An accomplished doctor herself, I couldn't think of a more suited person for him. But he never came back – not alive anyway. I didn't get to receive him in the emergency room, I didn't get to try and save him or watch my colleagues do it.

Instead, we received him in a casket at the military base, handed a national flag and his medals of honor, and had to bury him days later to the sound of the 21 gun salute.

We always knew the risks, but the pride for our son saving lives would never falter.

Didn't hurt any less though.

And then there was our princess.

She chose to save humanity in a different way. She chose to save lives that couldn't speak for itself. She chose to save something we all desperately needed to survive. Concrete jungles were suffocating as it is – we didn't need more.

I got to see her get wheeled in, I got to hold her hand and reassure her that my colleagues would do everything in their power to save her.

And they did. We were spared the excruciating heartache when they wheeled her out of recovery into ICU, and a couple of days later, to a general ward.

It was one of the scariest moments of my life – if not the scariest.

Nothing could ever prepare you as a parent to be in that situation, to witness your child come in covered in blood with a gunshot wound to the heart. She was already succumbing to the life threatening injury, but by grace we got her back.

It was torture relying on machines to keep her alive for the first twenty-four hours after surgery. It was torture waiting for time to pass, waiting for her body to start healing itself while it was stitched up from the inside and pumped full of drugs.

Despite risking severe infection, keeping her in the danger zone, they were forced to extend her life support another twenty-four hours.

During that time all I could see was my little girl in that intimidating big bed, and I wished so much I could turn back time and convince her to keep on dancing, make a career out of it, live a safer life.

I remembered her days in those annoying pink tutus, always needing to replace them as she literally wore them out.

And then Clay came along and introduced her to an environment we had yet so much to learn about. I was relieved to know there would be no sprained ankles and swollen toes and a disturbing drive to stay thin and lightweight to be a professional dancer despite the dangers it held. I couldn't imagine Spencer ever getting hurt in the garden or at the zoo or wherever this new interest took her.

Then she fell out of that tree and the unease started all over again.

Still, I was convinced nothing could seriously harm her while she pursued this strange interest in animal and plant life.

I was so proud of her for making her mark in the world.

Yet I wished she never did.

* * *

I thought I could dampen the pain a little when the young brunette, the same age as Spencer would have been, was brought into my care and depended on my intricate skills to keep her alive. By doing so, I felt somewhat connected to my angel up in heaven, knowing she'd be proud that I was doing everything I could to save this girl's life.

I shuddered at the thought that Kelly could possibly be up there with Spencer, and for a fleeting moment, if I was truly honest with myself, I'd rather it be Ashley, oddly thinking that they would like each other.

But it wasn't the right time, Ashley still had some fight in her, it wasn't her turn to go.

The surgery was successful; we'd managed to drain the excess blood in her skull cavity, releasing the dangerous pressure threatening to take her away too.

But it wasn't all sunshine and roses after that; Ashley's recovery took _weeks_ , and she suffered severe lasting effects after the accident. Lingering headaches, memory loss, nightmares and hallucinations, post traumatic stress disorder, depression… the list was endless and so was the timeline towards her treatment; we were just not sure when any of these symptoms would ease and eventually go away.

Her situation was made worse by the fact that she had no family, no friends, no support whatsoever. Arthur and Chelsea took it upon themselves to be her support system until she was discharged from hospital.

But without the daily support, her depression got the worst of her, and I felt so torn when Arthur told me about her encounter with her prescription medication. I so wished that Spencer was alive, that we could have introduced the two. I didn't spend as much time with Ashley as Arthur did, but she made a strange lasting impression on me, something I couldn't quite explain. There were just some qualities in this girl that we could never find in Kelly. Ashley was terrified of what was happening to her, but despite it all she was kind and strong and something _about_ her was just so endearing, so _right_ for my daughter.

Sadly, Spencer _couldn't_ come back to meet Ashley, and a couple of months later she was readmitted again, but this time she wasn't so alone anymore. There was a girl, and I was so happy for both of them. I didn't get to meet the girl at all, but from what Arthur described, Ashley was well taken care of.

Spencer could have been that girl. _Would_ have been. I could see it in my mind's eye; watch her sneak into Ashley's high care room after she was explicitly banned unless it was visiting hours. She'd shower Ashley with gifts and sweets – fruit gums – and trashy magazines for the moments Spencer really couldn't be with her. And it would be like that until Ashley got discharged, until Spencer got to spend every living moment with her to make sure she was okay.

That was the kind of person Spencer was, and Ashley was the kind of person I could see my daughter do that for. Because Ashley would have done the same for her.

It was all wishful thinking. A fantasy made up to conceal the heartache and the sickening, horrible truth of what was really going on.

I threw up, disgusted with myself for ever thinking Ashley Davies was the kind of girl I'd have wanted to marry Spencer.

* * *

I was constantly distracted by discussions between Arthur, Glen and Carlos, trying to figure out what Ashley's next move could be. I'd locked myself in the master room of the hotel suite, avoiding the inevitable for as long as I could. But eventually hunger took over and sitting alone with my thoughts weren't healthy either – judging by the way I wished Ashley could have been innocent.

So with new resolve I migrated to the general living area, opting to sit on the plush couch and read the newspaper while the detectives were hard at work.

"I think she's still here. Those injuries were quite severe, Arthur I'm sure if you look at this you'll agree with me."

My ears perked at this news, at the welcoming thought that Ashley Davies was severely injured and hopefully suffering for her sins.

Before I could stop myself, I was seated next to Arthur at the kitchen island, curiously watching as Carlos turned his laptop and opened the surveillance footage of Ashley in a bike shop just a couple of days ago. It was hair-raising to know she disappeared from sight just off the Oakland Bay Bridge, _so_ close to us.

A gasp escaped me at the sight of her; first of all to recognize the girl and be reminded once again that it was her who did all these terrible things, but then because of the condition she was in.

She struggled to walk, she struggled to _breathe_ as a salesman approached her. Then she turned, unknowingly towards the surveillance camera, and for a moment it felt like my heart had stopped beating. An unwelcome ache shot through me as I lunged forward and pressed _pause_ , inspecting Ashley's face closer.

It hurt so much to see the left side of her face completely marred, disfigured beyond recognition. With her previous head injury and what I could only guess was blunt force trauma to her cheek, Ashley Davies had little chance of surviving without seeking urgent medical attention.

I was tempted to touch the screen, soothe her face, forgetting for a moment that she was every bit the monster she looked like.

In that moment, all I saw was a severely injured girl, undeserving of that pain at the tender age of twenty-five.

Arthur pressed play again, only to pause a second later to further inspect her injuries. "Gunshot wound to the abdomen, it ties up with what Danielle's told you."

I was starting to believe Carlos's theory that Ashley Davies was still in town.

Perhaps she'd already succumbed to her injuries.

I was torn between wanting her dead and finding her alive, make her beg for forgiveness, and then kill her myself.

Perhaps then I'd be at ease with the thought of wanting Spencer to find her and save her dark soul in the afterlife.

* * *

"Let's talk to Tanner and get him to organize some patrol units in the surrounding suburban areas. Cover the Bay area, the beaches, everything there. I don't think they'd done an extensive search, probably thinking she'd left town already. My gut tells me she's closer than we're comfortable with."

"I agree. I'm also more at ease knowing she's almost incapacitated, eliminating any direct danger you guys might be in. Unless she's still armed, I doubt Davies would be able to hurt a fly."

"What's going to happen to her if you find her?"

Glen caught on to my wariness, and I found myself uncomfortable under his scrutinizing stare. The last thing I wanted was for Arthur and Glen to find out that no matter how much I hated Ashley Davies, no matter how much I wanted her to suffer and _die_ for taking my daughter away from me, I equally wanted her to be okay. Perhaps just enough to tell me _why_.

"Depending on her willingness to cooperate… she'll be handed over to the Feds. I can't imagine they'd be very gentle with her. If she puts up a fight," Glen sighed, "I don't know. She won't make it out alive."

It wasn't a comforting thought at all. "Can we see her if you do find her? Before they hand her over?"

This time Arthur looked at me strangely.

"I just want to ask her _why_. I just need to know why _Spence_ , why all of _this_ , what went _so_ wrong in her life to end up doing such horrible things."

"Mom, I don't think it's a good idea," Glen said softly. "Please don't make it harder than it already is. She's a criminal – a cold-blooded killer. Whatever she tells you would probably be a bunch of lies. People like her are trained not to talk."

"But she talked to dad, she wasn't this… this _monster_ after she got knocked down. Please, I beg you. I just need to know _why_." The tears were flowing freely, and if it weren't for Arthur pulling me into a tight hug, I wouldn't even have realized that the sobbing had become _so_ hard that I couldn't stand upright anymore. "I want my baby back. She was our princess…"

* * *

 **Mothers of the disappeared – U2**


	64. Jar of hearts

**A/N : I'm hoping I'm returning to everyone's good books after updating a couple of chapters ;)**

 **We're so close to the end I can hardly contain myself. Hold onto your seats!**

 **ToriDub – CH62 : I'm so glad I wasn't the only one feeling emotional about that chapter ;) Ashley's past will unravel slowly now, in the much anticipated chapter I'm sure you've all been waiting for. I'm sorry to say I don't feel the sting of your hatred because I know what's still to come lol :P Hope you enjoyed CH63 too if you read it, here's… drumroll… answering some questions! Thanks for reading and reviewing!**

 **BlueEyed – CH63 : And… here's another chapter! I'm desperate to stop keeping everyone from going crazy after being on the edge for so long. Arthur and Paula's views have been very vital from the very beginning, and it was kindof torture to write so many chapters until I could finally get here. Even Spencer's POV – it was so difficult to keep my mouth shut all this time ;) I hope it was well worth it, though :) Thanks for reading and reviewing!**

* * *

 **Only 6 chapters to go, dear readers; I hope it's been as an enjoyable journey for you as it's been for me :)**

* * *

 **Spencer**

 **Jar of hearts**

"What the fuck are you _thinking_? Why did you _do_ that?"

The rifle dropped from my shaky hands with a loud thud, my breath coming out ragged and my ghosted heart coming to a standstill. I didn't mean to, I never meant to really do it; the trigger clicked back too smoothly and I lost control with the tremble. Kind of the same way Ashley claimed she didn't mean to lose her footing and kill _me_.

The difference between us, however, was that I was a ghost, _dead_ , and she was just a ghost of a person I used to love – and she was still alive.

Maybe she just didn't know it yet – I scared her enough to probably make _her_ heart stop. It was exceptionally annoying feeling conflicted about this, feeling a tad bit of her pain.

The only upside of being a ghost, knowing I was a ghost, was evident that ghosts _could_ scare people to death. Like Ashley thought she was. Had I not been feeling so morbid I'd laugh about the thought.

"Spencer!"

Reality hit me at Madison's hysterical screech. I watched sickeningly as she bent down next to Ashley, her hands moving right through the girl as she tried to feel for a pulse, tried to find a heartbeat.

Ashley didn't deserve it. She didn't deserve people – or ghosts for that matter – caring about her. _Especially_ not ghosts. _Why_ did Madison care so much?

"Oh, my bad. I didn't mean to miss." The bitterness in me hurt incredibly. I wasn't this kind of person – not even with Kelly during endless fights, not even during times I was ready to leave her. Not even when I died and didn't even know it. I thought I was at peace with who I was, where I found myself, but finding out the full truth stung just a little more than I could handle.

"Don't you get it? If Ashley dies we're all stuck here!"

My shoulders shrugged at own accord; I was still unable to care. "Sorry, didn't get the memo. Why do you care if we're stuck here, where else are we supposed to go?"

Madison's anger towards _me_ was somewhat confusing. I wasn't the enemy here, _I_ wasn't the one who pulled the trigger on people, brutally taking them away from their families.

"Spencer," she sighed. I noticed the nod Madison pointed towards Aiden, demanding he leave the room. It was ridiculous, really. We were ghosts, what was the point of him leaving?

My attention was divided between Madison and stolen glances toward the unconscious girl on the kitchen floor, leaning against the island counter which now sported a gaping hole right next to Ashley's head. She looked horrible; the left side of her face was completely swollen and smashed, _ruined_ actually, and despite my efforts to clean the gash in her cheek, only plastic surgery would really patch up the wound but probably with terrible scarring.

There was also a gunshot wound; for this I had no sympathy towards her – she _deserved_ it. It should have killed her like she killed my friends, my girlfriend, _me_.

Her wrists were beyond repair. The only reasonable explanation was that someone had her tied up, cut off the circulation, made whatever they used to break through the delicate skin, exposing more of her tainted insides.

I couldn't help wondering how she got herself into this mess in the first place. How did she live with herself, knowing she took so many lives?

"You've been the only ghost so far who'd been able to touch people, be real with them, almost like you weren't dead. When Ashley left, what happened to you? You started disappearing. If Ashley dies, we're stuck in this hell-hole, unable to do anything but dwell around aimlessly for who knows how long. We can't die again. She freed the other ghosts by going after the people who ordered the hits on them in the first place."

It didn't make it any better. She still killed people to start with, despite seeking retribution for them. "So who ordered a hit on you? On Aiden? What happens to me, because her excuse is that it was an accident. I'm stuck here anyway, and I don't want to spend any minute longer with her than I have to. I want her gone."

It was infuriating the way Madison's face fell at my words. "Why do you care so much?"

"Why _don't_ you?" she countered.

"Are you _kidding_ me? Look at us! She killed my girlfriend – fiancée to be! She killed you! She killed me! Do you just not _care_ that she took your life? Did you _want_ to die?"

"She did what she had to do to survive, Spencer. She has no recollection how she got here, but she's been apologetic and genuinely sorry about what she's done."

"Don't feed me the same bullshit she has about the memory loss. I don't buy it for one second. How did she know to go after whoever ordered the hits? Did she conveniently remember that, but not how she ruined our families and their families too?" It was frustrating. I was tempted to pick up the rifle and pull the trigger again, _not_ missing this time.

Madison was getting frustrated with me too. It irked me that she _cared_.

"Why were you with Kelly?" The sudden change of subject threw me off guard.

"What does that have to do with anything? How is that any of your business?"

"You know she was here, right?" I couldn't decipher the sudden anger flaring in Madison's eyes. It felt like there was something they weren't telling me.

"So I could have had a chance to see her? This is just great!" I was livid.

"She tried to kill Ashley, and she was going to kill you too. She was convinced you were the one who ordered the hit on her."

This was ridiculous! "How could she kill Ashley, or me, if she was also a ghost? And I'm dead _already_ , or have you forgotten?" I was suspicious of the news that Kelly thought _I_ was responsible for her death, but it didn't really surprise me. Although she was about to propose to me, our relationship was in danger, we put each other in danger, and honestly, I wasn't sure why I was with her either. The girl I fell in love with had disappeared a long time ago.

Madison sighed and walked away from me, opting to sit down on a sofa with her head in her hands. I wished I could just understand what was going on.

I avoided looking at Ashley still unconscious on the floor and followed suit, sitting down across from Madison, waiting impatiently for her to share what was on her mind.

"The day you told her you loved her-"

My hand shot up, the pain searing through me at the memory. "Don't," I seethed. "Don't you _dare_ go there." The last thing I wanted to be reminded of was how she deceived me, how she touched me intimately, and then _broke_ me. I _hated_ her. I wanted her _dead_.

Madison just ignored me and continued, I was ready to punch her in the face. "After you left to get food and whatever else, Kelly got hold of Ashley. She wanted to go after _you_ and make Ashley watch her torture and kill you… then you came back and the only option Ashley had to keep you out of harm's way was to make you leave. So Kelly tortured her instead, and when I found her…" Her voice broke, and I felt the slightest bit of sadness rush through me. "I thought she was dead. We're not sure how Kelly was able to do that to her, but what she did was brutal. Remember the swelling she had on the brain?"

Another thing I didn't want to be reminded of. I should have just left her to die at that diner. Instead, I was a complete fool to look after her. Nurse her back to health only so she could kill _more_ people.

"Kelly made it come back, twice as bad," Madison carried on. She obviously didn't care that I didn't want to know. She could try and make me feel sympathetic all she wanted, it wasn't going to work. "She was bleeding all over; her mouth, her nose, her ears. I got to her just in time."

"I don't give a _shit_ , Madison. Kelly had every right to do that to her. It's a pity she didn't finish the job. Anyway, this conversation is over. I'm sick of you trying to come up for her. That bullet to the head really must have caused you some damage."

I didn't expect the sudden pain washing over me again, clenching tightly in my chest, my damaged heart. I wrote it off to the immense bitter things Ashley was making me feel, and I hated her even more for it. She turned me into a person that I was definitely not. I'd never felt so much revulsion towards anyone before. Not even Kelly could bring something like that out in me.

I got up from the couch, ready to finish the job I couldn't do either. Ashley needed to die.

"Give her a chance to explain, Spencer."

"Enough already! I don't care, Madison!"

"She came back to tell you she was sorry. She just wanted to protect you. It was the only thing keeping her alive."

"I'm already dead. Kelly would never have hurt me. Ashley brought that onto herself."

"She didn't _know_. She didn't know your relationship with Kelly; she had no idea you dated that messed up monster. Who, by the way, was the worst choice you could ever have made. She didn't care about you, your feelings, your hard work towards something so important. She was a mistake, and you _know_ it."

"You don't know what you're talking about. And stop badmouthing Kelly, I _loved_ her. You don't get to judge her."

"It seems more that _you_ suffered some brain damage, Spencer. Protect Kelly all you want. But stay away from Ashley. If you touch her I swear I'll cause you more harm than Ashley's ever gone through."

"Fuck you, Madison."

* * *

Abhorrence boiled inside me as I sat and stared, rifle back in my hands, and waited for her to wake up. Madison's conversation had shaken me so badly that I loathed her too; detesting her for forcing me into thoughts and insights I _didn't_ want to admit. I _didn't_ want to care about Ashley, I _didn't_ want to care about what she's gone through, I _didn't_ want to care that she was quickly losing the battle against life.

But I _did_ , against my will, because she made me _feel_ things, she treated me better than Kelly ever had during our three years together. The time I got to spend with Ashley, despite it being one big lie, had been memorable enough to hurt when I thought about it.

"Are you really going to pull the trigger on her and become the same person you're hating so much right now?"

Aiden. Right.

I took a deep breath, aiming the rifle towards Ashley's heart, daring Aiden to push me further. I've had enough of this.

"What's your deal, anyway? Who did you piss off to want you dead?" I never heard his story, all he told me was what a monster Ashley was by killing me.

"I told her to shoot me. We worked together. I was her eyes and ears, arranging case files and preparing her for her hits."

This was news. My eyes narrowed and shifted focus onto Aiden, but I kept the rifle pointed at Ashley. I wanted her scared when she woke up. I wanted her to _feel_ my pain.

"Go on."

"I don't know the details of how she became part of the Agency. I knew it took six years of rigorous training – I'd been through it myself – before she started getting assignments. Five."

I wasn't sure why, but this guy made me very anxious. Perhaps because he was in it with Ashley. He couldn't be trusted, the same way I'd never trust Ashley again.

"Five _what_?" I asked angrily. Could he not speak in full sentences?

"Five hits in total. Boz Anderson, Sasha Miller, Sean Miller, Lily Zee, Kelly..."

My heart dropped. Sean and Lily died at the hands of Ashley _too_? I saw Sean go down! Why? Why him? Why _Lily_? I was slightly surprised that it had only been five, save for Aiden, Madison, myself, Dan Miller and John Paxton.

"What about Dan and John? How were they involved in all of this?"

"You should know the politics – you were involved. They held Sean's wife captive. That's where Ashley disappeared to, to go and help her. In the meantime, John was responsible for the hit orders on Sean and Lily. They knew they were going to lose that case. Dan… he was a sick bastard. Having his own daughter killed was a tactic to gain sympathy votes. Kelly… was to warn you. To get you to back off. Ashley killing you was a mistake, but the order would've been made sooner or later. It was just a matter of time."

I should've known; I should've trusted my instincts when Dan and John threatened and threatened, and despite our resilience, they won in the end. But it still didn't explain how Ashley became the person to pull the trigger, and how exactly Aiden and Madison ended up here.

"So why did you tell her to shoot you?"

Aiden sighed, closing his eyes for a brief moment, as if to hide an emotion he didn't want me to see. "She was never ready for this job. During our training we'd been drugged and conditioned until we forgot who we were. She wanted out before she even started. It was distracting her and was compromising the Agency. I was told to get her under control or get rid of her. I couldn't…" Another sigh escaped him, and it all finally clicked. It was blatant in his eyes. "I wanted her to be mine. I could've given her the world. She belonged to me – _I_ was the one who _guided_ her, _protected_ her."

His words made me sick. "She's not some kind of _property_ , Aiden." There was an unexpected anger in me, a different kind of anger – an anger that made me feel as possessive about Ashley as _he_ was.

"It doesn't make a difference. She wasn't interested." He looked at me in disdain. "I don't understand what _you_ have that I don't."

I snorted in disbelief. "Well, for starters, better body parts."

He lifted his hand; my breath hitched. Was he really going to hit me? _Coward_. "Touch me and I shoot her."

My threat got to him worse than I thought. He _still_ wanted her. After all this time? After she slept with _me_? Did he _not_ get the message?

"Tell me why. _Why_ did you tell her to shoot her?" He wasn't giving me the answers I wanted, and his deviation tactics just angered me more. Forced me to feel things I didn't _want_ to feel.

"I wanted to scare her, to make her think the Agency was onto her if she couldn't execute her hits. I got Madison involved to help her out with her… _sexual_ frustrations, and then I asked her to go through Ashley's stuff. She did, Ashley woke up, freaked out, scared that she'd been compromised. I advised Ashley to get rid of Madison, and thought that by being by her side would bring her closer to me. I was angry. And frustrated. So I informed the Agency, and after Sasha's hit, they were going to go after her. The only problem was that I was in the getaway car _with_ her, so both of us were in trouble. They got us in the end, and I just wanted her to start over, to have a normal life. So I told her to shoot me, to leave me there so they could focus on _me_ while _she_ got away."

His deep, shaky breath almost had me feel sorry for him, but his obsession with Ashley flared up a dangerous kind of jealousy in me instead.

A dangerous kind that alleviated some of that _anger_ towards her, _against my will_.

* * *

 **Jar of hearts – Christina Perri**


	65. Waiting for the end

**A/N: So close… I wish I could stall so this fic would never end, but at the same time I can't wait to finish it!**

 **Southtrash – CH64 : I wish I could have updated even more, but this chapter took a bit longer to restructure properly. I also kindof liked the way Spencer got jealous – I wanted to remind the readers that no matter how angry she is, her feelings were very real for Ashley. Madison is super cool in this fic,** ** _someone_** **had to support Ashley all the way through ;) Thank you so much for reading and reviewing, enjoy this update!**

 **ToriDub – CH64 : Hahaha, I really laughed when you said you liked Paula's POV, and would have liked to talk to Ashley too, and slap her around a bit! Pff, Spencer could never kill Ashley, she was just too angry – still is. But you know me… cliffhanger master, and it was so convenient to have other chapters to squeeze in there to make you all wait! But… ending it there would also have been cool, just like Daisychains (CH59) would have made a good ending. Like the movies that just doesn't give you closure. But… there's still 5 chapters to go and in that 5 chapters there's still a little bit of story to tell ;) So, nope, we still have to wait it out with the ghosts that's left. I'm also very sad Ghost is coming to an end, it's almost been a two-year journey! I surprised myself completely with this! Anyway, let me leave you to get to the update ;) Thank you so much for reading and reviewing, and enjoy the update!**

 **dnmann – CH64 : Thank you very much! Thanks for reading and reviewing, hope you like this one too!**

 **BlueEyed – CH64 : I want to reply on your review from the end and then go to the beginning. Firstly, Spencer never killed herself, she died of a heart attack while getting lost in thought spending time at the beach. The ocean was, after all, one of her favorite places (loved animals, nature, hence environmental lawyer). The heart attack, unfortunately, was as a result of the gunshot wound – she may have survived the initial shooting but her body (and heart) was just not strong enough to keep her alive on her own. So technically… she did die at the hands of Ashley Davies. I get that it could actually ease up the anger and hurt Spencer has towards Ashley, if it** ** _wasn't_** **the case that Ashley killed her, but unfortunately it was. I love your viewpoint though, love that you pointed it out, I never would have realized that readers may have perceived it that way if you didn't say anything! ;) Aaaaanyway, I'm also glad Aiden told Spencer the truth, because she needs to see things from Ashley's point of view too. Understanding can perhaps lead to forgiving… who knows? :P Thank you so much for reading and reviewing, hope you enjoy the update!**

 **SonFan – CH64 : Hope this chapter doesn't disappoint! Thanks for reading and reviewing!**

 **BlueEyed – CH64 : A month already? Gosh I'm terrible with this lately! Hope you enjoy the update, I'm trying my best to get the last ones out as soon as I can! Thanks for reading and reviewing!**

* * *

 **Ashley**

 **Waiting for the end**

"You know, it's been bugging me this entire time how you managed to manipulate all the ghosts to _like_ you; and that after you _killed_ them."

I could barely recognize the voice through the haze fogging up my brain, the ringing in my ears, and the dizziness I felt even though I've yet to open my eyes to see what I've been dressed up in as a ghost. I prayed it wasn't the filthy bloodied clothing I wore when I died.

They could at least have put me in a more comfortable position before bringing me back to earth. My entire body _hurt_. I was perplexed about the thought of how _I_ was going to be freed. Perhaps my punishment was to be stuck here, invisible to the world, nothing but a soulless ghost drifting through streets, witnessing life carry on for humans that hadn't been tainted by the horrendous kind of acts I'd carried out that ruined families. Perhaps it was my punishment to feel this incredible sting of solitude, definitely not missed by anyone who may have known me when I was younger.

"They never liked me," I croaked out, choking on metallic liquid bubbling up my throat.

Spencer definitely didn't. And she was the ghost who'd mattered the most. I even managed to screw _that_ up. I wondered if she'd be able to slap – or punch – me now that I was a ghost too. She was angry, so, so angry, and I felt that I deserved every blow coming my way. I'd be offended if she _didn't_.

A bitter laugh penetrated my ears and it finally dawned on me that I was speaking to the very person – _ghost_ – who had every reason to hate me.

A whimper escaped me as I forced my eyes open, my vision swimming in tears. Could ghosts _cry_?

"You have no-one to blame for that but yourself."

Every single bitter word coming from her stung, _incredibly_. I had nothing to say – I didn't know _what_ to say; the damage had been done. If my body didn't hurt so much, it would probably have been better for me to just walk out the door and float away.

"Get up."

Confusion washed over me at her harsh command. Why did Spencer still tolerate me here?

"I said, _get_ _up_."

Something hard pressed into my chest, puzzling me even more – could I feel too? Like Spencer did? How was that even possible?

The fog cleared somewhat, a dimmed figure finally appearing in front of me. No doubt it was Spencer, her blonde hair appearing first, then the scowl on her face, and finally, the most beautiful but fierce blue eyes.

My limbs went numb and all I could do was stare, trying to lose myself in something I wasn't permitted to anymore.

Until the object in my chest pressed harder, and with a sinking feeling I realized it was my sniper rifle.

What? _Why?_

It hurt to frown, it hurt to even _think_. My mouth opened and closed to ask her what was going on, but the liquid I'd tasted earlier spilled out, another cough burning through my throat. More of it came out, dripping onto my chin, onto my hands as I wiped at it.

The sight was scary but what it meant was _petrifying_.

I wasn't _dead_?

This couldn't be. How could life be so cruel to have spared me that shot? I _wanted_ to die. I couldn't take the pain anymore.

Spencer stared at me in shock, momentarily frozen in place as she assessed the disconcerting circumstances. Then her demeanor changed drastically; she stepped away briefly and bent down next to me seconds later, gently wiping my chin with a wet cloth. "Hold this to your mouth." Even her tone had changed. She guided my bloodied hand to my mouth, closing my damaged fist over the dishcloth.

It was the first time I realized how my hands were shaking. The harsh vibrations spread across my entire body, making it difficult to stop the pain caused by the tremble.

"Come on, we need to get you up from the floor." Spencer didn't wait for me; she carefully placed the rifle down on the counter and wrapped an arm around my middle, effectively pulling me up and into her arms, holding me tight against her as she lead the way to my room.

I appreciated her help but was wary about her intentions. I dared to glance back at my rifle on the kitchen island counter, horrified to learn that there was a gaping hole right next to where my head had rested against the cupboards underneath just moments ago.

She did pull the trigger, but missed.

I didn't know what any of this meant. I didn't know what was going to happen to me – by the look of things my time was running out. There was internal bleeding somewhere, and I knew it was already bad if it pushed up into my throat. Whatever Spencer was doing, really didn't matter anymore.

But the tears came tenfold as she tenderly guided me down onto my bed. _That_ mattered. It mattered more than anything in the world, but it hurt equally. I didn't deserve this.

"Don't lie flat, you're going to choke on blood." A pillow got propped behind my back and my shoulders were pushed down until I leaned against it.

I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to block out the concerned blue orbs studying me. The equal weight of a blanket settled down over me, and despite my closed eyes I frowned.

"You're going into shock," she explained as if knowing exactly what was going on in my mind.

A second later the bed dipped next to me. There was an awkward silence, the only sign of life in the room coming from my heavy, shallow wheezing.

"I can't ever forgive you, Ashley." Her voice was soft but distinctly laced with pain, supporting her statement.

The tears were back and the shaking got worse as I opened my eyes to face her. It was the most difficult thing to do – to own up to my mistakes and accept the consequences. Even if it hurt more than my physical injuries.

"It was really hard to get over Kelly, to let go of my own pain so I could be a friend to you. But eventually it became so easy, you know?"

I _didn't_ know. Was it as easy for her to fall in love with me as I did with her?

"I mean, despite the past you claim you can't remember, it was really nice spending time with you." A brief smile covered her lips as she reminded me of our first days together. "Every day I would make it my mission to give you something new to remember."

Her eyes were sad as she recounted our time together, as if reminiscing was _that_ hard for her. It was difficult for me to accept that she was hung up on what we had – she had no reason to feel anything at all.

"And every day…" Spencer sighed, finally looking away from me. "Every day I just fell for you more."

There was a certain level of shame I felt for allowing Spencer to fall for me; a kind of shame that I didn't feel when killing people. It was difficult to comprehend that I didn't feel so bad about the bloodshed I caused, and it made me feel even more of a monster. What kind of person wouldn't feel bad about killing other people, but regretted breaking a girl's heart? What kind of person _was_ I?

I zoned out as Spencer continued to remind me how badly I've hurt her, retracting my resolve to own up and accept the consequences. I couldn't accept this – I couldn't accept that I've turned into a killer. I couldn't accept that I killed Spencer – even if it was by accident – and definitely couldn't accept that I had to sit here with her, listening how her voice broke as she narrated her experience with a version of me I could only ever dream to be, while gurgling out my last couple of breaths.

It was too painful, and on top of the gigantic tyrant I was, I also wanted to be a coward. Choose an easy way out – an _easier_ way – as if I _wasn't_ already succumbing to my injuries. Perhaps I would have been able to wait it out if Spencer wasn't here with me, but her presence made all the difference in the world.

Her presence _hurt_.

It brought on feelings I wasn't used to; the shame, guilt, the iron fist lingering its tight squeeze on my heart, unworthiness… But at the same time; emptiness when she _wasn't_ around.

"Why did you kill Aiden?"

I didn't understand her need to know all of these things. It didn't matter – nothing mattered anymore. But if talking about people other than ourselves would lessen the heartache a little, I was all for it.

I wiped my mouth with the bloodied cloth, hoping I'd get some explanation out before the next fit of coughs rendered the conversation useless.

"I didn't want to. We were stuck, the Agency I worked for… they wanted to kill me because my cover got blown. After Sasha Miller's hit… it was all just so wrong. I didn't want to do it. Aiden knew, and he informed the Agency. They were waiting for me to finish the job and then chased us all the way to Downtown LA, where Aiden had another getaway car waiting. But they caught up, and he…" My heart sank at the memory. Sometimes it was easy to hide behind the memory loss, but his expression when I pulled the trigger would never leave me. Expected but unexpected. Our eyes had met for the briefest final moment, reminding me how he'd pined after me all that time. I wished he never did. I didn't deserve him giving up his life so I could live mine.

"He told me to shoot him, so they wouldn't torture him. And also to give me time to get away."

I couldn't look at Spencer as I admitted how I took someone else's life in order to save my own. It was a terrible, selfish thing to do.

"Do you love him?"

Her voice cracked and my eyes shot up, my mouth dropping at her unexpected question. "What? _No_ , Spencer, I-"

I stopped myself midsentence, realizing how much worse this sounded. How much worse of a monster I was to take a life of someone who cared about me and I couldn't give a damn about him in return.

"I _know_ I'm a monster, okay?" I choked out, the tears burning my cheek at the constant flow.

My statement was followed by utter silence save for the sniffing and sobbing. I couldn't understand why Spencer was suddenly so calm and _patient_. Was she not _listening_?

"Why did you kill Madison?"

I cringed inwardly, wishing she'd rather kill me. I'd do anything but admit to her that I was the worst thing that's ever happened to her.

"She found my file on Sasha Miller. I thought she was trying to expose me." _Please don't ask about our sex life_.

"Do you love her?"

"No," I admitted tearfully. Perhaps I did, just a little. I wasn't _in_ love with Madison, but her friendship meant the world to me.

I watched Spencer carefully, how she bit her bottom lip, digesting what I've told her. When her shoulders sagged and her gaze dropped, I knew I've hurt her once again.

"So… all these people, who loved you and cared for you… When things got hard you just…" Her breath hitched and she paused, closing her eyes. "If I was alive when we met, you would have killed me too if you believed you were compromised. We never had a chance to begin with."

Her words _broke_ me. I was terrified to touch her but couldn't help when my hand shot out, gripping onto her arm. "Spencer… no… I'd rather have taken my own life than –"

"You don't know that," she interrupted harshly. "You can't say for sure what you would have done, Ashley, even if you mean well." The last part came out soft, almost understanding.

The sob that tore through me caused another fit of coughs, and with it came more blood.

Spencer's hand reached up and guided my battered hand up to my mouth again, forcing me to cough into the cloth. The concern in her eyes was devastating, especially after she just found out how I'd killed people who least deserved it.

"You need to rest a bit. I'll see if I can find any more pain medication and something to help for the shock. Keep still and upright, okay?" Spencer pried my fingers loose from her arm and held on for a second before releasing my hand with a soft squeeze, torturing my battered heart even more by being so gentle.

I couldn't rest and couldn't keep still and couldn't _take this_ anymore. The moment she disappeared from my room my eyes searched frantically for _anything_ that could possibly take me out of this _misery_.

But I could barely stir; any slight movement had my gunshot wound flare up in pain, soaking the sheets underneath me in dark crimson. The sweet, metallic smell was sickening.

I wondered if the bullet had somehow moved and pierced through my organs. Perhaps it was starting to poison me. Perhaps if it was neither of the above, I could _help it along_ a little, wherever it was lodged inside me.

It was an absurd thought; a completely spine-chilling thought that sounded all the more attractive the more I ran the options through my mind.

There wasn't many; I could either man up and wait it out and apologize to Spencer, Madison and Aiden, or I could end this all right now.

While Spencer was gone it was just so much easier to make the cowardly decision.

Holding down the nausea while biting down on the gory cloth, my right hand snaked underneath the blanket Spencer had covered me with, lifting the damaged clothing until I felt the soggy bandages around my waist. My fingers trembled as I tried to find the knot to unwrap the mess, but the moment I heard soft footsteps outside my room I knew my time was up. It was now or never.

I hastily pushed the bandage up, my teeth sinking into the cloth as the fabric tore away from my skin, taking some with it. My vision grew blurry from tears and pain, a groan escaping my raw bloodied throat – more from the anticipation of the pain still to come.

I took a deep breath, wishing I'd spent more time taking in Spencer's beautiful face, her beautiful features, her beautiful heart, but my time was up. I _had_ to end this.

My eyes were already closed, my fingers joined together forming a blunt arrow, and before I could stop myself, the gaping hole opened up to swallow my hand up to my knuckles. The pain was overwhelming but only for a second before darkness took over.

I wasn't at peace when my mind went blank, but at least Spencer would finally be.

And that was enough for me.

* * *

 **Waiting for the end – Linkin Park**


	66. Alive

**Spencer**

 **Alive**

It was so hard to leave her there on her own, suffering a kind of pain I wouldn't wish upon my worst enemy. I certainly didn't feel all that great anymore that Ashley – despite hurting me so deeply – was hanging by a thread, probably praying for things to just end. It was torture to see her in so much physical pain. I haven't realized before just how bad her injuries truly were.

But somehow, my heart ached more for her emotional pain. There was a lot I would never forgive Ashley Davies for. She took my life, she hurt my parents, my friends. She took the lives of people I was very close to, and hurt their families too. There was nothing she could do or say to ever make up for that. I didn't care if she didn't want to do it – ultimately we all had a choice. She had a choice to pull the trigger – and she did.

The right thing to do was to have let the Agency take her and deal with her for not playing their game. It would have spared so many other lives.

But _she_ chose to live instead.

Had she not, I'd still be stuck on the beach, dying on repeat day in and day out.

Had she not, Danielle Miller would have been dead, perhaps _more_ innocent lives would have been taken at the hands of Dan Miller and John Paxton.

Had she not, Kelly's ghost might have found me, and I'd be stuck in a cycle of emotional abuse until the ghost of me finally withered away.

Ashley Davies was by no means a saint for the handful of good she'd done, but learning a little about her circumstances made it easier to understand her actions, to understand _her_.

I hated myself a little for being that way, for being forgiving once I learned the full truth about a situation, but at the same time I couldn't fault my parents for teaching me such an important life lesson.

Perhaps that was why I was in this selfish position myself; I _didn't_ want Ashley to succumb to her injuries, no matter how painful holding on was for her.

I was scared that she'd disappear for good if she _did_ die, unable to come back as a ghost like we did. If we were guaranteed an afterlife together I might have taken the chance and helped her out of that pain, but it was too much of a risk.

My heart ached tremendously for this girl because part of it belonged to her.

Willing my hands to stop rumbling through the kitchen cupboards, I let out a sigh and closed my eyes, counting on memory lane to relieve the ache a little with good memories of her.

It wasn't that hard; my very first memory of Ashley Davies was one that still had my heart flutter. I remembered that late afternoon on the beach, the sun already setting, casting a beautiful orange glow across her face as I stared at her from a distance.

It wasn't until I stepped closer that I realized the same kind of sadness in her solitude that I found in mine. I was bold to intrude, but at the time, so glad that I did.

The smell of her hoodie still lingered, almost as if I was wearing it right now. I wish I _was_ , needing to ground myself in something _Ashley_.

The thought should have been startling, but the way she made me feel so _safe_ , so _loved_ … I wished I could just go back in time and never have let her out of hospital. I'd gladly have snuck in for the rest of my life rather than having her go out and get hurt the way she did. I'd gladly have lived in that hospital for eternity if it meant I'd never find out the truth about Ashley Davies.

The second time I saw her was at the coffee shop. She gave me her cell number but I was unable to phone her, realizing back then that something was amiss. There were times people looked right through me; I'd tried to buy a new phone but was completely ignored whenever I tried to speak to the salesperson.

I went back to the beach, hoping to run into Ashley there, but days eventually turned into weeks and I was convinced she didn't ever want to see me again.

I remembered how sad I felt at the mere thought that Ashley possibly hated me for standing her up.

My fear was proven correct when I finally found her on the beach a couple of weeks later, munching down on a cheeseburger and fries. I wanted to joke about how unhealthy it was, but her choice to ignore my presence hurt a lot more than it should have.

We barely even knew each other, but already there was this unmistakable pull towards her.

She kept ignoring me and with each passing minute I felt a little bit of my heart just tearing away, the same way it did when everybody else ignored me while I so desperately tried to get a new phone.

It made me feel so small and invisible to the world.

I wasn't sure how long we just sat there; I stole glances at her but she never once looked at me.

It was an awful feeling, but I stuck it out, figuring she'd eventually just get up and leave, like everybody else.

But finally, during one of those times I dared to take in her undeniable beauty, she caught me, and held my gaze until I blushed and had to look away.

It was the opening I needed to fish out the wrapper with her number out of my pocket and offer a sincere apology.

I got to wear her hoodie again that day, and it was the start of many adventures to follow.

* * *

Building a sandcastle with Ashley Davies was easily one of my favorite memories. We were covered in sand from head to toes, the walls of the castle uneven and the towers and buildings merely heaps of sand decorated with shells and stones. The moat was deep enough to swim in, an odd contrast to the smaller walls and towers.

It took us an entire day to create that masterpiece only to be washed away by the early evening tide.

But it didn't matter.

What mattered to me was learning about Ashley's memory loss, a faint memory of her dead father and mother who left her when she was still in school. I doubted after all the trauma she'd been through that she even remembered those details now.

Part of me still wondered if any of it was true, but mostly I just wished I could have met her before everything went so wrong in her life.

I would have looked for her until I found her – long before the Agency could brainwash and change her so much.

Ashley never doted much about her forgotten past though. As much as I wished I could make her remember things, I came to realize that making new memories was just as important to her.

It meant the world to me that I was that person in her life. It's been a long time that I've been able to make someone happy, to make them smile, to be craved in someone's presence every day. It's been a long time that life was just easy; no fighting, no stress, no threats of leaving each other. With Ashley things were just simple – none of the messy stuff.

I was constantly worried, though. Her emotions were all over the place; sometimes she'd open up but mostly she'd let it consume her until it made her sick. She suffered terrible headaches and sometimes she'd zone out completely, unaware of doing so.

I started taking notes, trying to figure out what set her off, what made her forget, what made her relax and smile that beautiful smile; and that's how the next couple of weeks passed by.

The bookshop and music store had been confusing. Sometimes we were too intense for each other. I knew Ashley was starting to remember things, or hints of things, and mostly it were upsetting to her. I hated that she hurt so much.

I still remember running out and finding an old second-hand acoustic guitar for her. I never meant to pressure her into anything, I just wanted her to know that she made me feel _alive_. Little did I know how true that statement _really_ was.

By that time I already knew that I've fallen for her; it was impossible _not_ to. Ashley was soft and kind and I admired her strength for pushing through every single day. She inspired me to do the same, and eventually it got easier to accept Kelly's death.

The night she invited me over was probably the last time I really mourned over Kelly after that stupid daisychains set it off. We drank so much whiskey and had I known it would have had dire consequences for Ashley I'd never have agreed to have the first glass.

I've never been so scared before, watching her zone out right in front of me, blood dripping from her nose, and then tumbling down to the diner floor.

I vowed that day that I wouldn't give up on Ashley the same way I did on Kelly. I'd fight for her and breathe for her if I had to, until she was able to do so on her own again.

My heart broke when she didn't know who I was when she finally came to, but within a couple of days she regained some memory, and I'd never felt so happy that I mattered enough for her to recognize me. It meant everything to me.

* * *

"Spencer?"

The plastic container dropped from my hands, the lid separating as it hit the floor, spilling round little pink pills all over. I jumped, unaware that I've been _so_ deep in thought that Madison's presence behind me scared the daylights out of me.

"Geez, you scared me," I breathed out, hand on my non-beating heart.

Madison chuckled, and I couldn't help but join in on the irony. "Boo?" she reiterated.

It was silly but we laughed until our sides hurt.

It felt strange, laughing with this ghost who up until a couple of hours ago I couldn't _stand_. Right now all I wanted to do was apologize and make right on my own wrongdoings.

"Madison, I-"

Her smile was soft and understanding as she bent down on her knees and helped me pick up Ashley's medication. "I know. It's a lot to take in, and you did get your heart broken. I can understand why it hurt so much."

"I'm still sorry, though," I apologized softly. "You've been a really great friend to her, I'm sure she appreciates that."

Madison's eyes gleamed as we faced each other. "Apology accepted. And she does appreciate me, her actions speak louder than words. For what it's worth…"

My voice cracked as I thought about the dying girl in the other room. "I know now that she meant it."

It was comforting to see Madison at ease, the smile on her face never faltering. Perhaps this was how it was meant to be. Perhaps we were all just meant to be friends in the end.

"Where did you go?" she interrupted my thoughts, the smile gone.

I looked up at her, alerted by her own disappearing form. "Wait, it's not me – it's _you_. How are you _doing_ that?"

"It's _not_ me," Madison shrieked.

We seemed to have realized it at the same time.

"Ashley!"

I was up on my feet and at her door as quick as my ghostly form could take me. I had to grab onto the handle a couple of times to open it, watching in horror as parts of my body was just completely _missing_.

I didn't care so much about myself as I did what was waiting in Ashley's room.

The sight had me topple to the floor, my invisible legs unable to hold me up under the immense pain of what I was witnessing.

"Ashley, what the fuck!" Madison yelled, the first to reach her bed. But there was nothing she could do – Madison couldn't touch Ashley like I did.

I had no choice but to force myself up and pry Ashley's hand from her wound.

"Stay with me, Ash, come on, stay with me," Madison begged helplessly.

It was difficult with only one of us being able to touch her; I really needed Madison to get Ashley to wake up.

Her hand was trembling – a good sign – by the time her bloodied fingers made its appearance. I wasn't faint-hearted when it came to blood, but the fact that it was _Ashley's_ blood had me panting hard.

I dared to look at her ghostly pale face, a terrifying pain clutching its claws into my chest. I couldn't lose Ashley, not now, not after everything.

Not after I knew that I still loved her, that she was the only person that ever made me feel alive, that I would work on forgiving her – if only she'd give me a chance to.

"Don't you _dare_ die on me, Ash. I _love_ you, do you _hear_ me?" I didn't wait for her to answer me; I grabbed her shaking hands tightly in mine and leaned over her, planting soft kisses all over the good side of her clammy face. "Stay with me, please. I'm not letting you go ever again."

The sudden loud bang at the front door hardly registered, but when a _very_ familiar voice shouted out " _LAPD_ " I knew my world was about to fall apart once again.

* * *

 **Alive - POD**


	67. Tears in heaven

**A/N: I know, I know, and I'm sorry. I hate it as much as you do when life runs away and there's nothing worse for me to not be able to write.**

 **Today's update has been a difficult chapter to finally complete and it's also hard because even if my updates have been taking so long, I still don't want the story to end! Sadly though, we'll be starting to say our goodbyes.**

 **If all goes well (and I really hope it does!), I can have the final chapter out by latest Sunday.**

 **I also have the second last chapter of Where We Began to near completion and the last one shouldn't take that long – it's been way too long overdue.**

 **There's still the comedy I've been toying around with, and another big monster of a read like this fic coming, but I'll have to finish the comedy first or at least get it halfway before taking on too much.**

 **I know it's been very slow and I do appreciate everyone's patience. Here's to the die-hards of SoN!**

* * *

 **Dnmann – CH65/66 : Thank you, hope this chapter is as good ;) Thank you for reading and reviewing!**

 **Southtrash – CH65 : I haven't really realized until you mentioned how heartbreaking Ashley and Spencer's thoughts were, until I reread it and noticed how much impact it had as back to back chapters. And then they became my favorites after the Daisychains chapter. So thank you! Here's the chapter you've been looking for… enjoy! Thanks for reading and reviewing!**

 **ToriDub – CH65 : It's been two months and I feel like I've made you all forget about this fic and what still needs to happen. I'm glad you liked the double update and I wish I could do it again or push through the last couple all at once, but that would mean skimpy work from my side. So, picking up from where we left off… the last chapter was intense… and here's another one… Thank you for reading and reviewing!**

 **BlueEyed – CH65/66 : No worries about the misunderstanding, you pointed out something very important to me – to reread chapters before I update! ;) I'm sorry it's taken so incredibly long between the last two chapters and this one, you kinda broke my heart when I couldn't deliver an update especially over Christmas (Does this make me a bad Santa? ;) If I could I really would have, I promise! So… here's this update then, I don't even know what to say and how to explain it, you'll just have to read it, and then hope with me that I can get this thing wrapped up! Thank you for reading and reviewing!**

 **TheDWall – CH66 : I hope I made your day today too, even if it's been months since the last update ;) Even if it takes me another decade, I promise to deliver an ending! Kidding though, I could never wait that long! Talking about final loose ends connecting, I think you'll like this chapter then! Thank you for reading and reviewing!**

 **GirlsOnly – CH66 : Thank you for your review! Some of the chapters even surprised myself, a lot of times before I update I have to read a little further back to make sure everything is still in context, and then I just think by myself – first and foremost : where on earth did I come up with all of this?! –and then, just appreciating that I can share my writing with readers who are absolutely amazing! As much as I want to continue and make this story even longer, it really does have to end. Think about it this way; it opens the door for another story ;) Personally I don't know if I'll ever be able to write something like this again, even though I have something big coming up it will just not be the same. I think I wrote all the weirdness out of myself with this fic :P Anyway, enjoy the update and thanks for reading and reviewing!**

 **SoNFan : Better late than never, I guess? Hope you enjoy this update! Thanks for reading and reviewing!**

* * *

 **Ashley**

 **Tears in heaven**

 _"_ _LAPD!"_

I've been drifting in and out of consciousness for a while now; every time coming to, hoping that I was gone at last.

But when the shouting finally registered, I couldn't help but chuckle in amusement.

How much worse could my situation get before I'd finally suffered enough for my sins?

Or was this more punishment? What was the police going to do anyway? Get me medical assistance and then let me rot away in a prison cell? Punish me with the death sentence?

"Ash, please stay with me."

 _Would you know my name, if I saw you in heaven?_

The heart-wrenching request was what had me open my eyes wearily. It was hard to focus but I could never miss the beauty of Spencer Carlin.

Madison and Aiden were behind her, looking on anxiously as they waited for the cops to barge in. I didn't know what they were worried about – it's not like they'd be arrested or anything. No-one could _see_ them.

But I was worried about Spencer. For as long as I was breathing and awake, and within close vicinity of her, there was a possibility that she'd be visible to humans.

She was going to look like an accessory to murder. They were going to take her away and she'd be tortured and–

" _LAPD!_ Put your hands up in the air where I can see– _Spencer_?"

"Glen?"

The resemblance between the cop and Spencer was so similar it was painful. I remembered the boy in the photo on Arthur Carlin's wall, never quite having grown out of that goofy semblance.

I choked on the reality of my monstrous actions once again. I took away the daughter of the very people who'd saved my life.

"I…I don't understand. You… you _died_. We _buried_ you."

I watched as the cop lowered his gun, staring hopelessly at his sister.

"Carlin, is every– holy _shit_!"

Another cop rushed into the room, dropping his gun in shock as he took in the state I was in, and then at Spencer Carlin right by my side.

"What is this? Some kind of sick joke? Carlin, tell me I'm not seeing–"

"Spencer… how? _Why_? What are you doing here? With _her_? She pulled a trigger on you!"

It was obvious the brother was freaking out. It was evident reality hasn't sunk in for him yet. And it was never going to – they were in for a bigger shock.

The partner was still frozen in his spot, unable to wrap his head around this hilarious situation.

Because what else could it be? My end? Spencer's end? _Again_?

"Glen… I can explain," Spencer finally found her voice, her hand reaching out as she stepped closer to her brother.

It tore through me as I witnessed the utter pain on her face as her brother – Glen – took a step backwards, his gun immediately pointed back at her.

"It's not what you think," I croaked out in her defense, more blood spilling from my mouth. It was probably a gruesome sight to look at, and I was about to lift the cloth to my mouth but Glen's partner, in an impressive swift move, had his gun back in his hands, aimed towards me.

"It's best you keep quiet and not move, Davies," the partner demanded with a flair for authority.

"I-I need some answers, Spence," Glen muttered out softly, gun still on her. There was fear and anger and _hope_ in his eyes, unable to choose which emotion to proceed with. It all came bubbling out at the same time. "Have you been alive all this time?" Hope. "With _her_?" Anger, and without blinking, he scowled at me. "You know she's a serial killer, right?" The fear was what had my heart drop. Any other day I'd feed on it, but not this time. Not with Spencer, not while her heart was torn between me and her family.

"Glen, please lower your gun. I'll explain it all to you, just… please," Spencer begged nervously. It was obvious the notion scared her, and within reason, considering how she died. It's never occurred to me before, since she had no problem picking up my rifle and pulled the trigger on _me_ – even if she missed. But her voice and posture gave her away. She was _petrified_.

Our eyes met for an instant, and though it was going to sound completely _insane_ , I nodded, hoping that they wouldn't hurt her too much once she told the cops she wasn't really alive. I found temporary relief in the knowledge that once we were separated, she'd be okay.

Spencer's shoulders relaxed visibly as her brother lowered his gun slightly, but his partner wasn't as lenient. Not that I could do anything – my time was practically up.

"I know what Ashley did. I know–"

"Oh, so you're on first name basis? What is going _on_ here, Spencer? Have you been _helping_ her?" Glen interrupted furiously.

"I'm not… I'm not alive, Glen," Spencer finally sobbed desperately.

Glen let out an incredulous, bitter, and quite amused laugh. I didn't blame him. It sounded absurd, and he hasn't even heard the entire story yet.

"Yeah, Spence, you're not. No-one in their right mind with a beating heart would do what you did. Do you have _any_ idea what this would do to mom and dad?"

Spencer flinched at the words and I flinched _with_ her. I hated the way he was hurting her with his words while indirectly, it was because of me.

Yet still, here we were, in a bizarre twist of events confirming she didn't hate me anymore. I definitely didn't deserve Spencer's love.

 _Would it be the same, if I saw you in heaven?_

"Can you just hear me out?" Spencer pleaded tearfully. Her hand reached out again but Glen held his stance, warning her to keep her distance.

It occurred to me that Spencer's brother didn't react the same way I'd have expected him to react. He should have been happy. He should have been ecstatic and cried and hugged Spencer at the moment he first laid eyes on her. He should have been phoning their parents by now, telling them the wonderful news that their daughter was here, even if it was just temporary.

Perhaps if he'd just give her a chance to explain, that could still happen. I wished more than anything I could die without Spencer disappearing from her family for good.

"I _did_ die, okay? That day at the court… Ashley was commissioned by Dan Miller and his people to take out Sean and Lily. She made a mistake. She lost her balance and hit me."

I didn't even have to look at him to know he was getting angrier the more Spencer told him. Spencer was only explaining things in my defense, not how it all happened from the start.

"I don't know why I survived that bullet, I _shouldn't_ have. I was looked after that day, and even though I spent the next few weeks in remorse about everything, when I look back now, even though I'm technically dead, I feel at peace knowing that these bad people had been taken care of."

"You feel at peace? Are you even _listening_ to yourself?" Glen yelled.

Spencer swallowed hard but refused to back down. "My heart stopped, Glen. It stopped long before all of this happened. Before our case even went further. Before Kelly started–"

"I don't know why you keep making excuses, Spence! It's not you! I don't even know if you're really my sister!"

There was a smile – although sad – as she continued, teary blue eyes glancing over at me. "Ashley may have taken my life, but she saved hundreds more by doing it. People like Dan and John and Kelly would never have stopped until they ruined this entire planet."

There was an unexpected jolt in my pulse from her words. What was she thinking? I didn't save lives, I took them! Why would she be saying things like that? Did she _want_ me to survive this and then rot away? Did she _want_ to keep living as a ghost, in a psychiatric ward until I finally died to set her free?

I wanted to protest, get Spencer to stop talking, but the cop's patience was running out.

"Save the bullshit, Spencer." Glen kept the gun on her but turned his attention to me.

"You're going down, Davies. Spencer can sweet talk on behalf of you as much as she wants. But you're going down. Or are you going to tell me you're not alive either?"

His sarcastic cynicism was infuriating. Spencer didn't deserve this.

"I'm alive, she's _dead_ , _detective_ ," I snarled. Spencer's eyes went wide at the revelation, her eyes scanning her brother's uniform to read _Detective Carlin_ neatly embroidered on his bulletproof vest.

"You made detective?" Spencer asked proudly, palpable love and delight shimmering in her eyes.

This caught Glen off guard. _So_ much that he lowered his gun again, eyes tearing up. His sister's pride was the icebreaker, and in one of the most painful moments ever recorded in history, I had to watch how Glen Carlin dropped his gun, jumped forward with the happiest smile, opening his arms wide to hug his long lost sister… and then fell right through her.

It startled everyone, shocking all of us to an awkward, stunned silence.

The other detective was first to react; he reloaded his gun and stepped right up to Spencer, pushing the barrel into her face. There was a visible tremble in his hand but I wasn't going to point that out to him. Neither that they couldn't really shoot Spencer again.

Glen jumped up and did the same, his tremble even worse.

I wanted to laugh. _So_ loud.

But the ghost of the angel in front of me had me shut my mouth before it could spill even more blood.

Spencer was devastated.

To her it wasn't a matter of proving she was dead, and that they could shoot her as much as they wanted.

It was a matter of family values.

Was the detective really going to pull a trigger on her, despite the situation they found themselves in? Was her brother – own flesh and blood – capable of taking that risk, not knowing whether killing her would make her disappear again? Was he even _thinking_ about it?

"What _are_ you?"

The venom in his voice was even worse than before.

The wreckage of hearts and lives in the room finally took its toll on Spencer; and she openly started sobbing, hands in her face, shaking, _breaking_.

The detectives were stoic, I was a bleeding, sniffing mess. It was time to fix this.

"Spencer…" I gurgled. The sweet, metallic taste mixed with bile, pushing up dangerously from my throat.

This got their attention.

Spencer glanced my way the same time both detectives redirected their guns towards me. I didn't think they realized they couldn't kill her, but I felt much more comfortable that the pressure was off Spencer.

"It's time to let go, Spence." It was an agonizing squeeze to my heart. But this had to end. I couldn't let her get hurt like this; I couldn't let her go with the memory of hatred in her brother's eyes. Something had to change.

"Who gave you permission to speak, Davies?" the other detective asked.

My eyes scanned his vest. Detective _Pena_.

I wanted to rile them up, to let them shoot me and set us free, but I also wanted Glen to love his sister the way he did before she died.

"Spencer, I love you. Always remember that, okay?"

My words had Spencer in tears again, and Glen in disbelief. "You love her? You _love_ her? You _killed_ her you sick fuck!"

The barrel of Glen's police-issued gun touched my forehead, pressing hard into my skin the same way Spencer did with my rifle not too long ago.

Not that it mattered.

"Carlin–" Detective Pena warned.

So I guessed they wanted me alive.

"Spencer, tell me you don't love her back. Tell me you want nothing to do with this monster, and I'll let you go right now. I'll phone mom and dad and we can forget about everything that happened in this room today. We can go home and I'll make you pancakes and dad will make you coffee and…" a hiccupped sob escaped Glen, followed by another soft "Please just tell me you don't love her."

That was as unexpected as the moment Glen tried to hug Spencer.

As much as I wanted Spencer to go knowing her brother loved her, knowing _I_ loved her, I wasn't sure if I could hear her say she didn't love _me_.

I wished I had time to think this through, to brace myself and prepare myself for the pain, despite knowing Spencer would never mean it even if she said it just to placate her brother, but now was my chance to turn things around.

Glen was hopeful. He'd forgotten that his sister wasn't really alive. They had no idea Spencer would be gone once I was gone.

But Spencer would go with the peace of mind that her brother loved her.

It was more important to me than convincing her that I loved her too.

"She doesn't love me. The hole in the kitchen cupboard? Spencer tried to shoot me with my rifle. She has every right to have come after me. I took her life, I took many other lives. Bittersweet revenge, don't you think?"

"Shut it, Davies," Pena made himself heard again.

I just laughed. He was like background noise, much the same as Madison and Aiden were just wallflowers in the room. None of them had control over this situation.

No-one except me. It was going to kill me without bullets, but it had to be done.

"Glen," Spencer sighed sadly, her gaze dropping. I hated that she was caught in the middle of everything once again. "It doesn't work that way, alright? You can't just cut off who you love."

Glen looked absolutely broken at her declaration. "You _love_? Please don't do this." His own eyes welled up with tears, silently begging her to take back her words, to choose her family above me.

My heart soared at her words, but this was not the way she was supposed to leave. Her family loved her more than I ever could. Nothing would ever make up for the damage I've done. "Spencer, no. Listen to me; I've ruined your life. I've ruined everybody's lives around you. You don't love me. You may have been infatuated with me, but it's not love. You don't–"

"No, stop it, both of you! I decide who I love!" Spencer cried hysterically.

We were so close. I couldn't let her ruin this for herself. Spencer wasn't supposed to dig that hole for herself. For her family.

With the last bit of strength I had left in my weakened, battered body, I forced myself to jerk upright, enough to surprise the two detectives the same time Glen cried desperately to Spencer to decide already.

Detective Pena was the one who ultimately made the decision in that very split second.

My sudden movement startled them; detective Pena's bullet hitting me in the chest, and seconds later, Glen's bullet hit me in the forehead.

There was no time to bid a final farewell to anyone.

All I could do was pray that wherever Spencer went, she would be okay.

 _Beyond the door there's peace I'm sure, and I know there'll be no more tears in heaven._

* * *

 **Tears in heaven – Eric Clapton**


	68. The Promise

**A/N: See? I'm really working hard to make that deadline! Also, beware, this could potentially be a tearjerker chapter. Grab the tissues. I did (but maybe that's because I have a cold :P)**

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 **ToriDub – CH67 : Thank you :) I wish I could answer all your questions (haha, sounds familiar?) but perhaps this following chapter might give away some answers… or clues ;) I did promise a happy ending so maybe it's still on the cards, who knows… You should know by now this entire fic has been a puzzle – sometimes even for me! Still don't know how the cliffhanger thing happened! Will send you a PM with regards to the comedy if you're still interested ;) Thank you for reading and reviewing, and enjoy!**

 **Anjela78 – CH67 : So good to hear from you again! I think it's also one of the most challenging stories I've ever written – not that there's been many, but yeah… I think I understand what you mean ;) The end is very near (like a chapter away) and don't worry, there could still be a happy ending! Maybe not what everyone wanted, since we're at the end and everyone's still crying… but just maybe I can make you all smile! The next story will be a comedy, much shorter and much lighter, which I'm sure you'll thoroughly enjoy! Thanks for reading and reviewing, and enjoy the next chapter!**

 **dnmann – CH67 : I hope this one is as good as the previous ;) Thanks for reading and reviewing, and enjoy!**

 **K1989 – CH67 : I'm happy to see the reactions from that last chapter, and I have to say I'm curious to know what happens after** ** _this_** **one… We're sooooo close and I'm dying to give you guys a good ending! I haven't forgotten about your request at all – that's what the next big fic will be after the comedy! (Excited?) ;) Thanks for reading and reviewing, and enjoy!**

 **SoNFan – CH67 : Aaaw you're making me blush! Thank you so much for the compliment, that really means a lot! (And is a welcome moral boost!) I hope the next chapter will do it justice, and then… sob… I just don't even want to think about the end. So let's think about this chapter instead. Thank you for reading and reviewing, and enjoy!**

 **Southtrash – CH67 : I actually wrote myself into a hole there, (well spotted/perceived!), hence the paragraph where Ashley didn't understand Glen's hostility either. But then I thought about it a bit more and wondered if he didn't have reason to be so angry… I mean, Spencer's been dead/missing for so long, and he finds out she's alive (thinks she is), without having contacted them (her family) at all. From the chapters of his POV, I wanted to give the readers the impression that the Carlin siblings grew up quite close, so perhaps that could also justify his anger and definite hurt that she's been alive all that time. Anyway, I'm no shrink, so let me not analyze what on earth I wrote there lol. He's a dude, his sister was sleeping with the enemy, he gets angry instead of emotional. ;P Thanks for the compliment, hope you enjoy this update! Thanks for reading and reviewing!**

 **GirlsOnly – CH67 : Haha, you thought you were cried out? Heed the warning in the author's note! Actually, the last chapter had originally been planned out a bit differently, but sometimes you have to make changes as you go, not necessarily wanting to, but anyway. I like the way you put it that Ashley seemed like a bad person but for Spencer she'd risk everything. That's actually a sweet thought. The entire fic started with a song and an idea. Two months of planning and two years of writing and working in new ideas as it progressed! Your questions will be answered soon, keep on reading ;) Thanks for reading and reviewing, and enjoy!**

* * *

 **Spencer**

 **The Promise**

 _She's not dead, she's not dead, she survived, she's going to make it. Pray Spencer_ , pray.

It felt like religion had abandoned me, making me pay for all the wrongdoings I've ever committed while I was growing up, possibly also for loving another woman.

But staring at her – _still praying_ – I knew it would never, _could_ never, be any other way. Perhaps there couldn't ever be anyone else either.

I didn't want to cry but the tears came down anyway; I was a little dumbfounded that there were any left, but my mind has gone to so many dark places that it just really never should have stopped in the first place.

I reached out to touch her face, to comfort her and reassure her that she wasn't alone. But her last words to me had me pause mid-air, scaring me, confusing me, hurting me.

The last thing I wanted to do was hold it against her, but while she couldn't reassure me in return, the darkness and uncertainty was all I had left to accompany me.

I hated it.

I hated to be here, to sit here, unable to do anything, unable to _help_. Yet I wouldn't want to be anywhere else – if she as much as _twitched_ , I wanted to be here. _First_. And right in front of her, so she could see me. _Me_.

My eyes were puffy and my nose was running, causing the inevitable sniff I didn't want to let out. It would break the silence and unleash the loud wailing I'd been holding in for so long.

But the dam broke.

I lurched forward, grabbing on to her bandaged hand, allowing the pent up pain to escape through my whimpering lips and bloodshot eyes.

"Please… Ash, _please_ …"

Empty promises sat right on my lips, refusing to escape my mouth. I'd sell my soul to the devil if it could just mean she'd wake up. I'd let her–

No.

Her striking form was lifeless and her skin only mildly warm; cooler that it should be but at least there was warmth. Warmth meant blood circulation. Blood circulation meant there was a beating heart.

I could see her beating heart from the monitor next to her bed.

There was still hope.

I closed my eyes for a second, taking a deep breath, wishing her scent hadn't been so eradicated by the liquids they've used during surgery and the general detergent smell of hospitals. I could really do with something familiar.

Not even her face looked the same.

It ate away at me.

"Ashley…" My hands were trembling aside from the shaking my sobbing body caused. "Ash, if you can hear me…" I closed my eyes again, trying to take her to a better place. Any place but here. "If you're dreaming of me," I sobbed with a hopeful smile. "Like I always dream of you, of places that's warm and dark…" Like her room, curtains closed to block out the summer sun. " _Please_ … take me where I can feel the beating of your heart."

I knew it was absurd, begging her to take me there while I was supposed to do that for her. The beating of her heart was right here with me, the proof was staring me right in the eyes. But there was no proof that it was beating for _me_.

I pulled away from her in alarm, shook my head trying to rid myself of the dark connotations of every single thought processed in my mind. Why did I _do_ that to myself?

I _knew_ why, but it was just too soon. I had hope, even if it was _all_ I had.

I didn't hear a soft click of the glass door behind me, but the hushed _hey_ caught my attention.

Wiping the tears was pointless, so I just nodded in acknowledgement as Madison quietly sat down next to me.

"How are you holding up?"

Frustrated at her question, sarcasm threatened to spill out, but I realized I wasn't the only one desperate to have Ashley back. I wasn't the only one counting on her. Madison had history with Ashley, and I wasn't always comfortable with it, but I had to hold on to what I had with Ashley too. It was the only way to get through this.

"As good as I can be, I guess." It was vague, far from the truth, but Madison understood.

"In other words, you're falling apart," she chuckled sadly.

The damn tears spilled again.

"I can't lose her, Madison," I cried out, leaping into her arms. "I just can't… I _love_ her."

"I know you do, and you have to believe that she loves you too. She'll pull through, one way or the other. You should know by now, Ashley's stubborn as hell," Madison soothed me, her own voice cracking a little.

I appreciated the conscious touch, the voice other than my own in the sterile, grey room, the reassurance.

But I was starting to fade away within myself, consumed by desperation and depression. It was a reasonable excuse to explain why I only concentrated on the worst possible scenarios.

"But you heard what she said… you _heard_ her say–"

Madison shook her head, pulling me even closer into her, as if to drown out my voice and silence the grave thoughts running through my mind.

"I _did_ hear what she said. But I also do know Ashley. Spencer, if you can't find reassurance from her right now, take it from me. You have nothing to worry about."

I wished it was that easy. Madison made it sound like Ashley was secretly whispering things to her as if she was a medium. Why couldn't Ashley somehow let _me_ know then? Why couldn't she just squeeze my hand? Move a finger? Twitch a muscle?

My thoughts terrified me. I was torn between the unknown and Ashley's recovery. What if she woke up and–

"Spencer, _stop_." Madison urged sternly.

A river of tears cascaded down my cheeks again without my knowledge. Madison was completely soaked.

I pulled away, wiping furiously but my cheeks wouldn't dry. It was difficult to look Madison in the eyes.

"Stop doing this to yourself. You need to stay strong for Ashley, okay? That's what's important now."

I nodded but her words floated right over my head.

Madison sighed in defeat, shaking her own head. "Look, why don't you go get some fresh air? You've been in here for days, all this sterile air can't be good for you."

That sobered me up quickly, driving me to hysteria. "No! I'm not leaving. You _can't_ make me leave her!"

I could see irritation clouding over Madison's face, but I just didn't care. To prove to her that I wasn't going anywhere, one hand reached to grab onto the edge of the plastic visitor's chair, clumsily gripping on tight enough so I couldn't be pulled off. The other grabbed hastily towards Ashley's hand again, squeezing as hard as I could until I realized neither of us could feel it.

"Your sanity is questionable, Carlin," Madison huffed out, her chair screeching as she got up and walked to the other side of Ashley's bed.

Her words stung incredibly, probably because it was true. I bit down on my lip to redirect the pain away from my heart; away from this room and this hospital and this painful situation.

I really wished I could just take Ashley away from here.

"Would you mind giving me some privacy?"

I stared at Madison, bewildered. Did I _not_ just say that I wasn't going anywhere?

She rolled her eyes and shifted closer to the bed from the other side.

I stared openmouthed as Madison talked to her, to _my_ Ashley, as if I wasn't even in the room.

Scratch that–

"I _need_ you to wake up, your girlfriend is totally losing it. She's been inhaling detergents and who knows what else, and seriously, she's fucking _high_. So, that's your cue, Davies, _any_ time now."

I half expected, half _wished_ that Madison's words would do the trick, despite the pain already lodged in my heart if it was _her_ and not _me_ that could get Ashley back.

But we both stared, waiting with bated breaths, until Madison finally broke down and cried. _Cried_.

I sat, blinking uncontrollably, frozen in fear as I watched the scene unfold in front of me.

Madison was a strong person, a lot stronger than I was. Hearing her cry like this had me lose the last bit of hope I had left. So was this it?

The tears threatened for an umpteenth time, but shock and disbelief had everything freeze up, possibly even my organs. I couldn't _breathe_.

But I could hear, and listening to Madison continue tearfully had me wish I could drag her out of the room and ban her from ever coming back.

"You _have_ to come back. We _need_ you, okay? God… why did you do it? _Why_ would you ever do something so _stupid_?"

My heart sank and guilt set in. Madison was getting angry at the situation, much like I'd been, allowing her thoughts and mouth run to away with her. I wasn't even sure she knew I was in the room anymore. I wish I _wasn't_ – her words hacked through me like a band saw through raw meat.

I wanted to shrink into myself, curl up and let the pain consume me until there was nothing left. She was right, Ashley _was_ stupid. Everything she did was to save _me_. She was here, lifeless, because of _me_. And what did I do?

Nothing. Absolutely _nothing_.

I was just there. Doubting her. Unable to pull her through.

The self-hatred was enough to let go of her hand and jump up, pressing myself into the farthest corner of Ashley's room, panting hard, praying that the walls could fold around me and swallow me whole. I wanted to disappear, even if Ashley didn't.

Madison looked up in surprise, her face crumbling unexpectedly. "Spencer," she stood up, regret in her eyes as she stepped closer to me, reaching out. I cowered away further, guilt and heartache and anxiety clawing into my chest.

"I didn't mean that, please don't think it was aimed at you," she begged apologetically.

The words didn't register – it was impossible to believe that I'd been worth saving. I had to look up to the roof and swallow several times just to get my body to take in _some_ air, even if it was just to say a final goodbye. I was ready for that deal with the devil now.

 _Any time now, please,_ any _time now, take me away from this. Take_ me _and let Ashley live. Let her be with the person she loves._

I wished I'd been closer to her bed to hold her one last time, but when my vision started blurring, I didn't dare move, the relief to disappear from this hellish nightmare almost _joyful_.

"Ash…" My voice cracked, the words almost seizing up in my throat. "I'll always remember your touch, your kiss, your warm embrace… and maybe someday I'll find my way back to you… _Please_ … say you'll be waiting."

Sobs and tears and sniffing and wailing filled the quiet room. "Please… hold a place for me in your heart."

* * *

 **The Promise – Tracy Chapman**


	69. Where the story ends

**A/N : On a very small planet, not too far from earth and unknown to humankind, it is still Sunday.**

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 **dnmann – CH68 : Thank you! I hope you will enjoy this chapter too! Thanks for reading and reviewing!**

 **SoNFan – CH68 : Thank you for the second compliment! Sorry it's a day later than promised, but here is that long awaited chapter! Thanks for reading and reviewing, and enjoy!**

 **Anjela78 – CH68 : Your review was very heartfelt, thank you so much! Love does prevail and I believe that this chapter I'm posting now will prove that very clearly ;) Thank you for the compliments, it would make an interesting movie, it certainly took some planning and a lot of rewrites to get where it is now! But finally we're at that point where we can breathe again, until next time – which is very soon, in fact ;) I feel honored that my story has been well received all over the world, and that I'd received so much positive feedback and encouragement to continue. So the thanks should not only go to the writer, but also to all the fantastic readers. I hope you have a fantastic day and that this chapter will put a huge smile on your face :)**

 **Nooo – CH68 : It was a very sad chapter indeed, especially considering Spencer's pain out of context. But I'm 100 percent positive that this chapter will make up for it :) Thanks for reading and reviewing, and enjoy the update!**

 **GirlsOnly – CH68 : Honestly, to me it felt more like they had nine lives and kept using them up! It was a sad chapter and had to happen, and if you reread it before/after reading this chapter, everything will fall nicely into place. It's been the one chapter people probably started praying for since CH50 or something, and here it is. Thanks for reading and reviewing, and enjoy!**

* * *

 **So, we're here, where everyone wanted it to be. There's one more chapter – an epilogue of sorts, but this very chapter is where everything happens. So I'm saving all the thank-yous and soppy stuff for the next one so I can get this uploaded and chew off my nails in nervous anticipation to hear your final thoughts on Ghost of an Angel :)**

 **(And if you spot any mistakes, don't worry, I'll spot them too somewhere in the early morning hours and stealthily re-upload the chapter.)**

 **Enjoy!**

* * *

 **Ashley**

 **Where the story ends**

"Ash… I'll always remember your touch, your kiss, your warm embrace… and maybe someday I'll find my way back to you… _Please_ … say you'll be waiting."

"Please… hold a place for me in your heart."

Nothing could ever make me happier than hearing those tender words. Nothing could ever make me happier recognizing the voice, and I imagined how it left soft lips, all the way from the warmest heart out into the open, for everyone to hear.

She chose me.

It was disconcerting that it wasn't her family, but deep down it touched my heartstrings, finally making me feel like I belonged somewhere. Belonged with someone who cared enough about what happened to me.

I just wished her voice didn't sound so far away, further than it had just been moments ago, as if she was right next to me. I wanted her back, I wanted to feel her presence and feel the fingers covering my bandaged hand. It was a bit confusing to feel something hard where her hand should have been.

A muffled moan escaped my dry and chapped lips, hoping to get her attention. It also grabbed my _own_ attention; realizing I _hadn't_ died, that this nightmare was _still_ not over.

Spencer was still a ghost. I'd been detained, _saved_ , just to be tortured to death.

I deserved that, but Spencer didn't deserve the pain it'd cause.

The second time it wasn't a moan, it was a pained sob, my heart breaking all over again for what I've done.

"Ash?"

She was back by my side, and I wanted to tell her to leave, but I couldn't. I just wanted to see her one last time. Before this nightmare _really_ ended.

One side of my face felt swollen, preventing me from opening my eye, but the other side eased out of a disturbing blur until my surroundings finally came into focus.

" _Ash_?"

Her face was right in front of mine, tears running down her cheeks, a strange feeling tingling at my scalp as she brushed away some stray hair.

"You're awake! Oh my gosh, you're awake!"

I felt like crying _with_ her but for different reasons. Spencer seemed so ecstatic, her face a mixture of relief and joy as she cried and cried and cried, while I was completely torn.

"Call my mom, please, call my mom!"

I caught a glimpse of Madison rushing out the door, feeling even more confused. How could people see Madison? And how was she going to call Spencer's _mother_?

 _No, no, no, no!_

Why would Spencer want her parents here after I killed her? Was she _insane_? Did she really inhale detergents like Madison claimed in the wake of my foggy mind?

I wasn't fully awake yet, but alert enough to try and push myself up, to try and escape before I had to face the people who saved me, whose daughter I _killed_. I just couldn't.

"No, Ash! Don't get up! You'll tear the stitches!" Spencer was more alert than I was, carefully pushing me back down.

I wanted to fight her, wanted to beg her to let me go, but my brain registered another odd feeling; as if someone had pressed a cotton ball into my mouth and then gagged me. Just the mere thought of it had me cough uncontrollably, forcing tears through my good eye as my throat burned up and my body contracted in pain.

"It's okay, it's okay. Just breathe slowly, okay? I've got you, Ash, I've got you."

If I'd learned anything valuable from the Agency, it was to pay attention to people's body language. Spencer's hands shook violently as she reached for a paper cup next to my bed, adjusting a straw, then brought it close to my mouth. She was in shock, scared, excited.

The attention went out the door as I regarded her more closely.

The strange feeling I'd felt on my hand, on my scalp, was because her hands were not _normal_. One wrist and forearm was covered in a sturdy cast while the other hand was bandaged up, much the same as mine. It didn't make sense. Spencer was a ghost, and although she could touch _me_ , other people couldn't touch _her_. So why did she have these things on her, and why was she injured? _How_ did she get injured? She was a ghost!

"Ash–"

" _Ashley_?"

The happy look on Doctor Paula Carlin's face, paired with tears in her eyes had me in a total panic. I was expecting rage. I was expecting a scalpel pushed brutally into my chest. My heart raced and I felt clammy all over, unable to make out what was going on. I turned to Spencer, desperation on my face, in my eyes, begging her to explain all of this. I couldn't do this, I couldn't live with what I've done.

My eyes darted from the girl who'd stolen my heart, to her mother, who was calmly by my side in an instant, pressing buttons next to me in a haste and pulled something over my mouth, relieving my panic slightly with cold air filling my lungs.

"It's okay that you're confused, but what's most important is that you're awake. Thank God you're awake, we were so worried."

I wondered for a fleeting moment if I'd been in a coma ever since that drunk driver ran me over, and that I _hadn't_ gone on a killing spree to free my ghosts. The thought both placated and scared me.

"Ash?"

Spencer's voice seemed so unsure and the excitement in her eyes dulled to concern as she stared at me.

The hand in cast reached for mine again, her fingers just barely managing a squeeze.

I wanted to offer her reassurance but I just didn't know _how_.

"What is this I hear about Ashley being awake?"

The familiarity of Doctor Arthur Carlin's voice entering the room finally had me cry harder than I've ever cried before. He'd been my support system for so long and I let him down so terribly. How could I ever look him in the eyes again? How was it even possible that they looked happy to see me awake?

The tremble in Spencer's hands was back, forcing me to face her, face the pain, but a different pain than I'd expected. She looked devastated witnessing me cry.

"She's disorientated. It's best we give her some space, okay?" Paula announced, trying to usher Arthur and Spencer out of the room.

"No, Mom! Please, don't make me leave her. _Please_ …" Spencer cried, refusing to let go of my hand.

It felt like I belonged in a psych ward. Where was Detective Glen Carlin? The cops? The agents from the Agency?

"Honey, we just need to check her vitals, okay? Give Ashley some breathing space, she's been through a lot of trauma."

Spencer still cried, her fingers trying to claw into my bandaged hand as Arthur gently pulled her away.

I didn't understand. How could they see her? Why were they not upset?

"Ash, can you follow the light for me?" Paula asked kindly. She came closer with a gloved hand, fingers carefully separating the eyelids of my good eye. A moment later a thin bright beam nearly blinded me, but I followed it nonetheless.

Paula nodded in satisfaction and wrote something down in a manila folder.

"I'm going to hold your good hand, I want you to wrap your fingers around my hand and squeeze as hard as you can. Do you think you can do that?"

I nodded dumbfounded, just following instructions as best as I could.

Maybe Spencer would fill me in on this bizarre situation once she was allowed back into the room.

"That's very good. Things are looking good, Ash."

I rolled my good eye, wondering how on earth she could claim things looked good. It looked anything _but_ good. In fact, this entire encounter was probably just a teaser of what _could_ have been, had I not screwed up so badly in my life.

"Oh, you're definitely on your way to recovery. Don't think I didn't see that eye roll," Paula chuckled.

My heart ached deeply to see the happy smile on her face. I was terrified to let the words slip, to ask her _why_. To ask her what was going on. To _tell_ her what was going on.

"Let's remove this mask and check your breathing. But tell me as soon as your chest feels tight, okay?"

She didn't give me time to answer, the comfort of the cold air disappearing in an instant, replaced by a cold stethoscope pressed against my upper chest. "Breathe in for me? As deep as you can."

I did, and it was excruciating. " _Fuck_." I clenched my teeth and looked up at Paula in embarrassment.

"Don't stress. You'll be in quite some pain for a while. Breathe in for me again?"

The stethoscope had moved, and once more before Paula adjusted the bed to a more upright position.

The pain was unbearable. My head throbbed, my ears were ringing, and a piercing sting ran through the left side of my stomach.

"Easy, just take a slow breath. I just need to finish up then I'll organize some morphine for you, okay?"

Paula's voice was still so gentle, caring, _concerned_. I just wanted to close my eyes with the comfort of Spencer by my side, and wake up in a different life. A life where I didn't break this family.

Minutes passed until I realized I'd dozed off. My eye opened groggily and my heart picked up at the sight of Spencer. Her presence was soothing despite the confusion clouding my mind.

"Do you want to sleep a bit more? My mom's gone to talk to the charge nurse to organize an MRI and something for the pain. She said you can sleep for a while if you want."

I didn't want to sleep, I wanted answers. But the pain and weakness and positively _numb_ limbs protested heavily against what my brain wanted. "Maybe in a few minutes," I mumbled somewhat incoherently. "Will you stay with me?"

I didn't even recognize my own voice.

Spencer's tears were unexpected, but her eager nod was heartwarming.

"There's someone that would really like to see you, if you're up to it, before you sleep again," Spencer offered quietly. I noticed for the first time that she kept looking at the glass door of the small white room I was in.

I nodded uncertainly, still too confused about everything. I really hoped it wasn't the cops right now. Spencer's presence meant everything to me and I wanted to prolong this nice feeling for as long as possible.

A short dark-haired girl made an appearance, her face lighting up immediately as she regarded me.

"Ashley! I was so worried! You're such a crazy romantic!"

She looked vaguely familiar, as if I'd met her before. Perhaps I knew her before the Agency wiped my memory.

I cringed as she hurried closer, enveloping me in a tight hug.

"Oh, God, sorry! I didn't mean to hurt you!"

"Kyla, _careful_ ," Spencer urged, and I smiled faintly, appreciating the care and over protectiveness.

It lasted only for a second when it suddenly clicked. The girl on TV, right after they found out who I was when I killed John Paxton. She claimed she was my half-sister. Kyla… something. She wanted me to turn myself in!

I squirmed, trying to move away from her touch, obviously causing the hurt look on her face by my actions.

"She's still very confused," Spencer explained, her hand in cast back on mine, and the bandaged hand running carefully through my hair.

Kyla had tears in her eyes and I felt terrible, even if _she_ was the traitor. I hated causing everyone so much pain. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry about everything. I really thought Aiden had gotten over you and moved on. If I'd known…"

I had no idea what this Kyla girl was talking about, looking to Spencer for guidance, but for the first time since I woke up, she looked absolutely _broken_.

It hurt me deeply to see her so troubled and uncertain. She refused to make eye contact but I drew comfort from the fingers still clasped tightly around my wrapped up hand. I wasn't sure how Kyla knew Aiden, but I did vaguely remember how Spencer questioned me about my ghosts after she pulled that trigger on me. I wondered where he was, if he was still around, and what had happened to Madison. Were they stuck here forever now?

"Miss Davies? It's good to see you awake!"

All attention was on the nurse in the door, her relieved smile dousing me back into a mild panic. Why were they all so _happy_? Did they not know who I was?

"We're just going to take you upstairs for an MRI, it should take about an hour. Then we can administer some morphine for the pain and let you get some sleep. Does that sound good?"

"Can I go with her?" Spencer asked hopefully, the spark back in her eyes.

It reminded me of the time I was also in hospital and temporarily lost my memory. I'd never forget how Spencer stuck by my side, sneaking in to my room whenever the nurses weren't looking.

"Spencer, you know you can't take this kind of liberty just because your mother works at the hospital. We've already looked the other way when you kept sneaking in and slept here every night."

I looked at the pretty blushing blonde in surprise. She did that for me, _again_?

"Please," she begged softly, her voice cracking slightly. "I won't be in your way, I promise. Can't I just go up with her and wait in the reception area?"

Kyla chuckled and unexpectedly squeezed my good hand. "I'll be here when they bring you back, okay? Is there anything you need? Juice? Snacks?"

What I _really_ needed was someone to tell me what the hell was going on. I wanted Spencer to tell me what was going on. I wanted her to stop being so happy and think about the repercussions about me being alive. Between the cops and the Agency, they were going to torture and kill her too. Why was she happy about that? Why wouldn't she step away from this?

"Okay," the nurse finally relented. "But only if Miss Davies agrees. I don't want you harassing my patient anymore."

Spencer's mouth dropped open at the accusation, a pained look crossing her face. It was the third time I've noticed her look so broken in the short time since I came to. Something had happened that I didn't know about, something that _hurt_ her.

"I…" she swallowed hard, her eyes refusing to meet mine once again. "I'll wait here," she whispered despondently.

"No." My own voice cracked, but it was firm nonetheless. "I'm not going anywhere without her." There was an imminent panic in my chest at the thought of being separated from Spencer, no matter how much I wanted her to walk away from me and save herself from the looming torture.

Spencer's head shot up, her damp eyes hopeful.

"Alright then. Let's get you to radiology then." The charge nurse stepped back into the doorway, motioning for two other nurses to wheel me off to go for the MRI.

I hated all of this. I hated feeling so confused and not knowing what was going on.

But what I _didn't_ hate, not at all, was the footsteps of the girl hurrying to keep up, her fingers still clasped tightly onto my bandaged hand.

* * *

When I came to, feeling more alert and cognizant, I was back in the small room, the lights slightly dimmed, even outside in the hallway. There was no bustling of nurses, drawing my attention back to the sounds in my room.

There was a steady beep next to me, my heart being monitored carefully like I was so used to by now.

It was the first time I noticed the plethora of IV lines taped to my hand – the good one – all connected to assortments of bags and pumps. I gathered one was morphine, since I couldn't feel any pain other than the sting from the needles and a slight throbbing at the side of my head.

Another sound had my functioning eye scanning around, recognizing the soft puffing of air, of someone else in the room, possibly fast asleep.

I quickly found the culprit and couldn't help the soft smile and love bubbling up inside me. It shouldn't have surprised me that Spencer was still here, rooted in her seat next to my bed, head resting on her outstretched arm.

The bandage on her hand was gone, allowing me a dim glimpse of her palm in the dark room. The hand in cast was now held up by a sling wrapped around her shoulder.

Something nagged at me.

I wished there was more light available to properly inspect her palm. I could vaguely make out sutures to keep the skin together, several lines crossing from one end to the other.

It looked exactly like the scars I saw on her hand when we first met, when she explained to me that she'd been attacked by a dog.

How was it possible that it was only being treated now?

I shifted carefully and reached over with my uninjured hand, mindful not to pull on the IVs or yank out the needles. My fingers automatically feathered her palm, as if I'd done it before, and I couldn't help but want to soothe the red, raised lacerations with soft kisses.

The nagging was still there, though, and I gently let go of Spencer's hand, trying to figure out why all of this felt so strange. Why Spencer's injuries were so fresh and _real_ and why she had them in the first place if she was a ghost.

I took in her features, lightly brushing away a stray strand of hair from her forehead, concerned that even the small scar above her left eyebrow was pink, not white like an old scar. It looked like it happened just a couple of weeks ago.

I found temporary reprieve from all the questions when Spencer groaned softly, shuffling her shoulder and arm until it was free from the sling. Her own movement woke her and I watched sympathetically as she lifted the cast onto my bed with a pained frown. Her hand must have been throbbing from the way it rested in her lap for so long.

"Hey," I offered softly, trying to distract her from the pain.

My heart skipped a beat as Spencer's face instantly lit up. "Hey! How long have you been awake?"

"A couple of minutes," I admitted hoarsely , wondering if she'd find it creepy that I've been inspecting her wounds.

"Can I get you anything? Do you want some water?"

Apparently she _didn't_ mind. Spencer was more focused on _my_ wellbeing, her stitched up hand carefully wrapping around a Styrofoam cup on the bedside table next to me. The direct contact on her wounds must have hurt by the way she flinched, but it didn't discourage her from helping me.

After a few sips I felt more human, and wondered if Spencer would be up to chatting for a bit. I would really appreciate to find out what had happened now that we were alone and my brain felt less fuzzy.

"All good?" Her smile was hopeful and her eyes sparkled with fondness.

"Yeah." It was the first time I was able to offer a full, intended smile in return.

This seemed to please Spencer tremendously and I observed her carefully as she made herself comfortable, resting both arms on my bed. I could tell the hand in cast was causing her discomfort.

"Spence…" I cleared my throat, startled that it felt weird to say her name out loud. It felt like I haven't said it in _days_ , saddening me a little.

There was that shade of uncertainty on her face again, but she pushed it down, presenting me with a brave smile instead.

"What happened to your hand? And your arm?" I tried to avoid the obvious, the impending doom of both our existence. I didn't want to be taken away from her.

There was a look on her face that I couldn't quite decipher. She suddenly looked so weary and hesitant and _sad_.

"I mean, I remember us being in my condo," I continued. "I remember when the cops came in, and you were there, Madison and Aiden were there, and Glen and detective Pena. I remember Glen making you cry and make you choose and…" I closed my eyes, wishing I didn't have to say this out loud. "I remember them shooting me. How am I still alive? And _who_ hurt you?"

I faced her, begging for an answer that wouldn't tear us apart. That wouldn't end this strange bubble we were in. But the look on Spencer's face had me even more confused.

"Ash… what else do you remember?" she asked cautiously.

Fear started setting in, and I wondered briefly if the cops and Feds and The Agency were standing right outside my room, waiting for a confession or something. Maybe that's why Spencer was here. Maybe she made a deal with them. My freedom for her life.

I was hesitant to tell her anything, my eyes darting back and forth.

"Do you want me to close the door?"

I nodded and felt some of the tension drain from my shoulders as Spencer returned to her seat.

I took a deep breath, not even knowing where to start. "I came back from Long Beach, John Paxton was dead, Danielle was free, and then Dan Miller died. But he shot me and tortured me, mauling my face and probably caused some serious damage to my organs. I made it back, though. You were there and I tried to tell you I was sorry for lying to you and hurting you, but then you shot me with my own rifle. I mean, you _tried_ to," I smirked, "but still…"

I paused for a moment, trying to recollect my thoughts, wishing I didn't have to relive everything we'd been through. I've hurt too many people, ruined too many lives.

Spencer stared at me, _dumbfounded_ and frozen in shock. I could imagine the gears turning in her head, trying to find the right words to explain how we ended up here.

"That's not… _quite_ what happened…" she frowned, eyeing me carefully.

"You have a better version of this nightmare we're in? Humor me, Spencer," I taunted, unable to keep my emotions in check.

I regretted it instantly. Spencer flinched openly, that same pained look I'd seen earlier back on her face again.

"I uh…" her gaze dropped, driving me crazy when I realized there was some inner turmoil she was struggling with. I wanted to shake it out of her, force whatever had happened out of her. And beat the shit out of the person who caused her physical harm.

"I think it might be better if my mom or dad talks to you. They're more equipped than I am to explain everything." She's closed up so badly that when I reached out to her, her hands remained limp, not closing around mine as I tried to hold onto her.

The rejection tore into me, forcing a pained, embarrassing whimper from deep within. I had to look away from her so she couldn't see the tears, and to pour more salt onto the wounds, she took it the wrong way.

From the corner of my eye I watched with a broken heart as Spencer lowered her arms onto her lap, biting hard onto her lip to keep her own tears at bay. She avoided looking my way and closed her eyes, and I couldn't imagine that it would ever be comfortable falling asleep like that.

But I had to let it go for now. She was still here, we were both safe in this room, and for that, I was utterly grateful.

* * *

It had been a fitful sleep, and I struggled to find any motivation to open my eyes when Doctor Paula Carlin's voice penetrated my ears instead of Spencer's. At some point I'd thought that the entire conversation during the early morning hours had just been a terrible dream, and that I'd feel the comfort of Spencer's presence next to me, her head resting peacefully on her arm.

But when light seeped through my eye and allowed me to focus, there was no sign of Spencer.

My chest constricted and the tight squeeze didn't quite go away when Doctor Carlin reassured me that my recovery was going well and that I'd be okay.

"Where's Spencer?" It was the only thing on my mind. I had no interest in my vitals and further course of treatment or even reduction of the morphine doses.

"She's gone for counseling. She'll be back soon."

Counseling. People could see her. Her parents could see her. Doctors could see her. _Counseling_?

"What? _Why_?"

"Well," I watched with apprehension as Doctor Carlin grabbed a chair and sat down next to me.

"You've all gone through a very traumatic experience, Ashley. When something like that happens, it's best to seek help as soon as possible, otherwise it could adversely affect the rest of your life."

The confusion was starting to annoy me. "Doctor Carlin," I wasn't sure why she frowned as I addressed her. "I don't _know_ what happened. The last thing I remember was your son and that detective shooting me."

Her eyes went comically wide, and then her arm rested on mine as if to console me, and strangely so, because _I_ wasn't the one suddenly crying. "Oh, Ashley. You must have had quite some dream while you were in the coma. It's normal for the brain to block out short term memory in order to protect a person from severe trauma. In your case, I think that's what may have happened."

I was even more desperate than before to get to the bottom of this. I still didn't get why no-one was upset with me. Maybe I was dead, and this was my afterlife where Spencer was alive again, happily reunited with her family.

"Was I in a coma because of that drunk driver? I never saw him, he came out of nowhere," I tried to explain. It wasn't my fault. Maybe I'd get a second chance at this and not kill more people.

But it hit me that I've already killed Spencer by that time. The court case happened long before I had to escape LA back to the city I've wreaked so much havoc in.

"Doctor Carlin…" My hands shook and my skin felt clammy as I faced the mother of the woman I killed. She had no scalpel in her hand, but I was sure it'd be easy for her to inject something lethal into my IVs. But I had to come clean.

"I–" The confession died in my throat as the very ghost who I loved so dearly – visible to just about _everyone_ – appeared in my door. She looked sad and made a point of it to keep her distance.

"I killed your daughter."

There, it was out in the open now. I was ready for them to kill me and finish this nightmare once and for all.

" _What_?"

Spencer's high-pitched voice startled me. Two other voices accompanied the same shocked expression.

"I shot her, okay? I was in San Francisco the day they had that court case. My mission was to take out Sean Miller and Lily Zee, which I _did_ , but I tripped on the roof and the trigger went off, and it hit Spencer. I never meant to kill her!" No matter how hard I cried, no matter how much I apologized, it could never ever bring their daughter back.

"Oh, honey, no," Doctor Carlin sobbed _with_ me, scooting even closer to me. "You just woke up from a deep coma. You're disorientated and your cognitive responses are still recovering. You were shot during your prom night. You _saved_ Spencer's life."

I had to blink and remember how to breathe and focus to hear and force my brain to understand what the doctor was telling me. It wasn't quite registering.

"How long was I in the coma for?"

"Sixty-eight hours," Spencer confirmed. Her voice caught in her throat and she rushed into the room, grabbing my bandaged hand again, tears cascading down her cheeks. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm _so_ sorry," she cried in earnest, burying her head against me.

My chest constricted again, this time from sheer panic but also the threat of pure relief. I couldn't _dare_ believe that what Doctor Carlin said was true.

I was incredibly wary as Doctor Arthur Carlin also stepped closer and rested a hand on my shoulder, tears shimmering in his own eyes. "You saved our little girl."

My head shook in disbelief on its own accord. There was no possible way–

"Take off your shirt," I begged Spencer. There was only one way to find out if there were any truth in the Carlins' words.

" _What_? Ash–"

"Spencer, _please."_ I was _desperate_ to believe what they were telling me.

"Uhm…" Spencer looked to her parents for advice but Arthur turned around while Paula kept a careful eye on me.

I ignored the breathless sensation as my eyes scanned Spencer's half naked torso. I tried very hard to ignore her body parts that had _my_ body parts tingle all over.

"Ash," Spencer pleaded, uncomfortable under my stare, and even _more_ uncomfortable with her parents in the room.

I snapped out of it and reached out towards her chest, my fingers tracing carefully down her cleavage. Goosebumps followed my touch until I stopped, pulling Spencer down a little to have a better look.

There wasn't a scar on her sternum. Not even a trace of it. There were no marks, no bullet imprints, _nothing_. The skin I'd just touched was soft and _flawless_.

Doctor Carlin cleared her throat while I had to clear my _mind_.

Whether it was from shock or relief I wouldn't know. My body took on a strong tremble and tears just came and came. I never realized the heart-wrenching crying came from my own mouth.

Spencer had her shirt back on and wrapped me tightly in her arms, mindful of my injuries, but still tight enough that I wouldn't feel like I was floating away.

"I didn't kill you," I murmured against her, my chest still tight as I tried to digest the information. "I didn't kill you."

It soon became a worrying chant that had Paula page the charge nurse for calmatives and pulled that little mask over my face again.

It wouldn't deter me from saying it over and over again, even if my voice was muffled and my eyes started drooping.

"I didn't kill you…"

* * *

"She was very traumatized when we told her what had happened, but I think more so because of the dream she had while she was comatose. It was a lot to take in."

"So… what happens next? When can she come back home?"

"Kyla… we need to get hold of Christine first. I know you've tried but until she'd been informed about what happened, I think it would be safer for Ash to come home with us. You're welcome to stay there too. Both Glen and Clay have summer arrangements so there will be plenty of space."

"Are you sure? I don't want to impose–"

"One hundred percent sure. Ashley will need all the support she can get. And Spencer needs fresh air. With you there maybe she won't be so holed up all the time."

"Thank you, Mrs. Carlin."

Fresh air. Detergents. High.

 _Madison_.

I forced my eye open, catching Paula and Kyla's attention. My train of thought derailed for a moment at Spencer's absence, but the heavy cast resting on my hand assured me that she was right there, fast asleep.

"Are you okay, sweetie?"

It was going to take _years_ to get used to Paula's warmth towards me.

"Where's Madison, and Aiden?"

They were the last missing pieces of the puzzle. I had to see for myself–

"Right here," Madison announced from the doorway, a large arrangement of flowers hiding her face as she stepped inside.

"I'll leave you youngsters to it. Take it easy, okay Ash? And page me if you need anything."

"Hey Ash."

My skin crawled at the nickname, despite knowing now what I'd gone through was just a dream. It was still difficult to work through; most of the time I couldn't distinguish between reality and what I _thought_ had happened.

"Aiden," I cleared my throat. It was difficult to see him, and I could tell Kyla was uncomfortable too.

 _Everyone_ was uncomfortable.

I couldn't remember much of what happened before or during the shooting; hoping that Spencer and Kyla would fill me in, but I _did_ know that Aiden had hurt my girlfriend and my sister. And me.

"Can I just say this in front of everyone, and then we pretend it never happened? Because I _will_ come after you. Each one of you," Madison requested before the awkward silence could get any worse.

I raised an eyebrow at my former best friend. I wondered if we'd ever get along again, like we got along in my dream. That was a part I really missed.

"Go on," I urged cautiously, my good eye locked on to Madison's forehead. I couldn't see an imprint on her skin, no burnt gunpowder, no hole.

"You're a dumbass, Ashley. But a heroic dumbass. Not a lot of people would have done what you did, and it gives me hope, that there is that one person out there for everyone, who you'd do absolutely _anything_ for. That being said, you may have saved this girl's life, but she saved yours first. Don't mess this up, Ashley, I'd love to gatecrash your wedding one day."

This was something ghost-Madison would say. I had to take a second look just to make sure the girl in front of me _wasn't_ actually dead, and then I had to pinch myself, wondering why the real Madison would ever say something like that to me to begin with.

Maybe there _was_ a chance of us getting alo–

"Tell _anyone_ , and I'll come after you with a real rifle."

Or not.

Kyla chuckled and I swallowed hard to pretend Madison's words didn't affect me so much it nearly drove me to tears.

"It's good to see you're awake. Now, if you'll excuse me, I've got a cheer camp to get to."

It felt so good to laugh despite the excruciating pain in my side.

"I uhm, I'll be right outside if you need me, Ash," Kyla announced uncertainly.

I didn't want her to go, but I could understand how difficult it was for her to be in the same room as Aiden.

"Can we uh, can I talk to you alone for a second?"

Aiden gestured towards Spencer and I immediately felt anger boiling within me.

"For your information, she's asleep – hadn't slept for _days_ just to be here with me, and even if she wasn't asleep, whatever you want to say to me you can say in front of Spencer."

"Ash, come on," Aiden begged.

I refused to give him what he wanted, ignoring the desperation in his eyes. My eyes _did_ scan his forehead to look for a scar, though.

"You _hurt_ me, Aiden. We've been friends forever and you were _family_ to me. You _knew_ how much I valued our friendship. And yes, I was confused for a while but because you pushed and pushed despite me telling you that I was with Spencer. I _love_ her, Aiden. And I don't think that would change anytime soon."

"Look, I understand, okay? But I love _you_ , Ash, and _that_ won't change either."

"Don't call me that," I snapped, ready to have him escorted out of the room, out of my life. But part of me still hoped that we could work things out one day, _without_ his feelings.

"Aiden you have to accept that I just don't feel the same, okay? If you can't, then I'm afraid we won't be seeing much of each other. I can't let you hurt Spencer or Kyla or myself again."

His persistence was wearing my patience thin. I was ready to listen, but now I was ready to explode.

"You said I was your family, there was a time when you told me you loved me too. Would you have taken a bullet for me like you did for her?"

"Get out."

"Just–"

I was both annoyed and relieved when the heart monitor started making a noise, startling Aiden a little. "I said, get _out_."

He timidly stepped towards the door, _daring_ to glance back at me. It hurt that he _finally_ apologized only softly, but it also gave me some peace within. If only a little. But it was a start.

* * *

"I don't know if I can do this, Ash."

I pouted and sighed and fluttered my eyes. "Come _on_ … your shrink says you need to talk about it."

"My shrink is biased."

"Your shrink knows what's good for you."

"My shrink thinks I'm taking advantage of their name at the hospital, and my girlfriend thinks I'm sniffing hospital detergents. So, no. Why don't you ask Kyla?"

"Kyla's moping and way too depressed right now."

"Why? She looked _very_ happy when I saw her earlier at the cafeteria."

I frowned, wondering what could have changed so drastically. "Are we talking about the same person?"

I loved the way Spencer laughed, the way her head tilted back and the way her features lit up. It felt really, _really_ good to see smiles instead of tears for a change.

"Yo, hot sis-in-law. How's it looking?"

First there was panic; I was expecting a gun, and then a partner – _also_ with a gun – but then I rolled my eyes as Glen glided into the room.

"Sis-in-law? Really? We haven't even graduated yet," Spencer huffed in exasperation. Glen loved to rile her up and sometimes I enjoyed listening to their bantering. I appreciated it now more than ever.

"But Ashley is moving into my room for summer. Next thing we know she moves into _your_ room, and then your own place, and then Ashley becomes my hot sister in law."

"Hey, Spencer is hot too," I defended her. In all honesty, given her warm personality, she was hotter than me.

" _So_ hot that Ash made me undress in front of mom and dad!" Spencer laughed.

"Okay, I was just thinking you were warm inside and had a nice personality but I retract my thoughts. You're _mean_ , Spencer Carlin," I laughed right with her. "I mean, you didn't even ask me to undress too!"

I thoroughly enjoyed the flushed look on Glen's face and then the way he swallowed continuously, hastily making a beeline towards the door. It felt and looked familiar… as if I'd seen him hot and bothered like this before… almost, no, _exactly_ like in my dream.

It didn't take long to put two and two together. Glen was at the hospital cafeteria. Kyla was at the hospital cafeteria. Spencer saw them together.

My eyes narrowed as I eyed the older Carlin brother. "Hey, Glen, can you come here for a second?"

He stopped in his tracks, surprise on his face as I called after him. Stepping closer to my bed, he frowned. "Yeah?"

Once he was close enough I went in for the kill and planted a flat hand against his cheek, the echo of the slap startling both Carlin siblings.

"Ow! What was that for?"

"For having dirty thoughts about my sister. If you come near her I'll cut off your balls."

* * *

"Are you ever going to talk about it?" I asked softly, tracing feathery touches across Spencer's palm until she squirmed and pulled away.

I hated seeing the sadness wash over her, the same sadness since the day I woke up, and I knew the more I pushed, the harder it would get to see her smile again. But part of me longed to hear the full truth of that almost fateful night. There was still a bit of information that Spencer withheld – and within reason – given the way it continued to upset her, but part of my recovery mission was to leave all of this pain behind when I finally got discharged from hospital.

I didn't want to go live with the Carlins, continuously waking up from nightmares and have Spencer spiral into depression.

"Spence…" But perhaps today wasn't the right day. She'd just returned from a therapy session and it left her in tears by the time she got to my room and scooted onto my bed. I reached out and held onto her wrist, squeezing lightly in support.

"Whenever you're ready, I'm here for you, okay?"

That seemed to get her attention.

Two teary blue eyes looked up at me, her face crumbling and her body shaking as she started to sob again.

I was able to sit up and pull her into me without too much pain, and held on tightly while she cried her heart out. I hated seeing her hurt.

"You…" Spencer sniffed. "You jumped right in front of me, Ash. You grabbed me and pulled me down, shielding my body with your own while all I did was try and break the fall. And…"

I never found out how exactly it happened, not in so much detail as Spencer was trying to tell me. Part of me wished I could remember it, if only to understand a fraction of the pain Spencer was going through.

"And that right after I was upset with you and walked away because… because I believed you didn't love me."

The dam broke the same time the strings to my heart snapped. I pulled Spencer away from me, my hands cupping her cheeks, trying to get her to look into my eyes. Deep inside I was panicking, scared, _terrified_. That was what Aiden was talking about. He loved me and I loved Spencer. It all came loose at the seams a moment before the bullets started flying.

Spencer must have thought that I chose Aiden, and ran away.

No-one saw it coming, and I would never know how I knew Spencer was right in the line of that bullet. I would never know how I got to her so fast, even able to wedge myself between her and fatal danger.

But if I had to do it all over again, I'd do it in a heartbeat.

"Hey, Spence, look at me," I pleaded, my thumbs wiping gently at her tears.

I realized this was a devastating thing for her to confess. As much as everyone thought _I_ was traumatized, it hit Spencer harder than anyone else.

"Hey," I cooed again, a lump forming in my throat. I vowed to myself to never make Spencer feel like she wasn't loved again.

Her eyes finally met mine, brimming with fresh tears as I held her gaze. "I love you. I love _you_ , okay? And I'm so sorry I made you doubt my love for you. That's on me. But know this; I learned that loving someone isn't about choosing them. It's something that comes naturally and should stay natural. And that's what I feel with you, Spence. I don't _have_ to choose, because my heart is with you. And you've been taking such great care of it, I decided you can keep it forever."

Her head was back against my chest, sobbing harder than minutes before. I wish I knew what I had said wrong.

"My heart is with you too, Ash," Spencer finally mumbled into my gown. "And I'd take a bullet for you too."

* * *

"Are you ready for tomorrow?"

I glanced up at Spencer as she neatly folded her clothes, my heart feeling warm and my psyche feeling content.

Paula still scared me and Arthur still wanted to teach me culinary skills, but that aside, I was looking forward to spend some quality time with the Carlins. I longed to feel the everyday life of a family; of annoying parents and rebellious teenagers, of homemade dinners and goodnight kisses. It was everything I _knew_ the Carlin house had to offer.

So I was content, even if I was still a bit wary about Paula, and even though Arthur would fail hopelessly in teaching me to cook. Even if Kyla would be there, annoyingly so, probably set on stealing every sneaky moment I'd get to make out with Spencer.

But I was content. "I am," I smiled at her, patting the spot next to me. I wanted to savor the feeling of her body so close to mine just in case we wouldn't get that opportunity again anytime soon.

"So…" she returned my smile and left a soft kiss on the side of my mouth. My insides turned to mush. "We've got one night left. You owe me a story."

I chuckled and relaxed back into the bed, pulling Spencer with me. "You mean, a long dramatic dream where I played the villain and you were the hero?"

"Something like that," Spencer laughed, making herself comfortable in my arms. "You need to start from the beginning. Everything you remember."

I smiled. I was _haunted_ by the dream. But it wasn't real, and that was what counted. "Well, it all started…"

* * *

 **Where the story ends – The Fray**


End file.
